Scream Reality 7
by jackyj06
Summary: The franchise of Scream films has come to an end, but a horrifying set of real life murders begin occurring. Ghostface has returned, but he is more terrifying then ever...


Scream Reality 7  
Jackson Jones  
Prologue  
Drum and Bass music loudly burst out of enormous speakers as the lights flashed in a dizzying haze in the student union nightclub in the Stoke Campus of Staffordshire University. It was a Friday night, student night. It was the day of the week when all penniless young people flocked from their student accommodation to take advantage of ridiculously cheap alcohol. Hundreds of them were crammed into the minuscule hall dancing like raging lunatics. It was past midnight and yet the students were not about to leave. Closing time was still hours away and they would not dare to attempt to stagger home through the terribly cold December night until completely intoxicated. Despite the numerous insane dancers, there was one student who was not in the mood. She sat alone in her booth with a half empty glass of ice cold vodka and orange juice sitting on the beer stained table in front of her. Georgia Evans was always up for getting drunk and having a good time, but at that very moment she was feeling rather melancholy. She stared across the room at her friends as they wildly danced with her occupied blue eyes. She stroked her long blonde hair out of her eyes and took another sip of her drink. Georgia was currently in her first year at Staffordshire University where she was doing a degree in Biology and was nearly at the end of her first term, just being a week away from the end of her first term. When she first arrived in Stoke she had loved her rented room in halls and loved being completely independent from her family, but once lectures began she realised how difficult it was, so much more so than her A-Levels were which she had flourished in and the independency of University came back to bite her as she realised the University expected her to get on with her own work. They gave her very little support and she was finding it increasingly difficult to complete all pieces of work and meeting deadlines. She groaned, leaning back into her seat and rubbing her weary eyes. She was now over two hundred miles away from her hometown of Worthing and was lucky if she saw her family once every three months. She missed them more than she could bare and she did not know whether she could last another two and a half years of loneliness like she had been experiencing the past few weeks. She took another glance across at her friends and made her mind up. She picked her glass up and drained it before grabbing her leather jacket.  
"Where are you going?" a voice asked behind her.  
Georgia peered over her shoulder and saw her best friend standing behind her, her arms folded and a cheeky smile stretched across her face. Georgia had known Amy Mitchell since they were both eight years old and they had followed each other through life, they always did the same as each other, they went to the same parties, they had the same friends and they chose to go to the same University. The two of them were well and truly "best friends for life". Georgia sighed as she pulled on her jacket over her hooded sweatshirt. She looked at Amy apologetically, "I'm not really feeling it tonight."  
Amy stared deep into her best friend's eyes and instantly knew something was wrong. She quickly nodded before striding forward and picking up her coat and handbag.  
"What are you doing?" Georgia demanded.  
Amy looked up at her before smiling, "As if I'm going to let you go alone."  
"No," Georgia told her, "Stay. Enjoy your night."  
Amy shrugged, "It's shit here tonight. Let's go."  
She strode away toward the exit. Georgia smiled, she knew that Amy was having fun, but had decided to leave because she had asked. Her heart lifted. That was the sort of friend she wanted to have around her for the rest of her life.

The two pushed the door opened and stepped outside, instantly regretting it. The air was like ice, freezing their lungs as they breathed it. Amy immediately crossed her arms and held them tightly to her chest.  
"Fuck me it's freezing!" she exclaimed.  
Georgia zipped up her jacket and buried her hands in her pockets. Amy linked arms with her and they stepped forward, walking away from the bar, but still hearing the music as loudly as they would if they had not left.  
"Did you talk to your parents?" Amy asked.  
Georgia shook her head, "It's too hard. When I talk to them I want to go home and not come back."  
Amy slowly nodded, "I know the feeling. I talk to my mum on Skype everyday and trust me. It really does help."  
Georgia nodded, knowing she would not follow the advice Amy had just given her, but they stopped and Amy looked directly at Georgia.  
"Babe," she smiled, "You're not alone up here. You've got me. You've got the rest of the group. You don't have to shut yourself off from the world."  
Slowly tears began to form in the corner of Georgia's eyes as he face screwed up in sadness, "I feel so bloody lonely! I don't know what to do!"  
Amy pulled her into a tight hug and slowly rubbed her back, "Sweetie! It'll all be okay. It's only a week until you go back home anyway!"  
"I know," Georgia sobbed, "But I know if I go home I won't come back!"  
"Hey!" Amy interjected loudly, "Let's leave that for future you to worry about. I saw the bottle of vodka you've been hiding in your room, so we're going to go back to yours and get wasted! Deal?"  
Georgia laughed, wiping away her tears. She nodded, "Deal."  
"Lesbian porn!" a voice yelled, "My favourite!"  
The two women spun around and saw a good looking tall student striding toward them, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans as he was wrapped up tightly in his leather jacket. George Stokes had joined the University at the same time as them and lived in the same block as them and he had fallen madly in love with Amy who neglected to stop teasing him after he professed his feelings to her.  
"What are you doing George?" Amy groaned.  
He pointed at the incredibly loud nightclub before smiling at the females, "What do you think?"  
"You're killing your liver!" Amy mocked.  
George winked, "You love it. Who's in there?"  
"The usual," Amy shrugged.  
"You coming in?"  
She shook her head, "We're calling it a night."  
"Oh grow a pair!" He laughed.  
"Chill out bro," Amy smiled as they walked past him.  
"Will I see you tomorrow?" George called as they walked away.  
"Doubt it!" Amy replied.  
George grinned and walked away and through the open door of the club. The two women continued walking, but Georgia was staring at Amy in shock.  
"What?" Amy asked.  
"You like George!" she exclaimed.  
"I do not like George!" Amy scoffed.  
"You do! I saw the way you looked at him!"  
"If you tell anyone I will kick your arse!" Amy warned.  
"I wouldn't dream of it," Georgia said, trying to stifle her laughter.  
A few seconds of silence passed before Georgia burst out into laughter.  
"Do you want to go home on your own?!" Amy yelled.  
Georgia shook her head and stopped laughing, blushing as she did, "Sorry. I think it's sweet."  
"Not another word!"  
Georgia had to continue stifling laughter as she pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door student halls. The lock clicked and she pushed the door open and the two women crossed the threshold into the warm corridor. Amy slammed the door shut behind them and shivered.  
"Fuck me it's cold out there!" she gasped.  
Georgia rubbed her hands together and looked around, "Where is everyone?"  
"It's Friday remember," Amy told her, "They're all out drinking and we're the only wankers left in!"  
"You can go back if you want," Georgia told her apologetically.  
"I'm kidding," Amy winked, "I'm out every bloody night anyway. It'll be good to have a night in!"  
They ascended the two flights of stairs to Georgia's room and she once again got out her keys and unlocked the door, giving them entry. She turned the lights on. The room was a tiny cube with just enough room for a bed, a desk and her wardrobe.  
"Don't you just love living as a poor person?" Amy smiled.  
"Couldn't be happier," Georgia lied.  
Amy threw her bag down onto the floor and sat down upon Georgia's bed and slowly reached beneath it, grabbing something. She pulled out Georgia's hidden bottle of vodka and smiled as Georgia threw her keys down onto the desk.  
"Vodka, pizza and romcoms?" she asked.  
Georgia grinned, "Sounds good to me."  
"Well go make the pizza then!" Amy demanded.  
"As if," she scoffed, "This is my room! You do it!"  
Amy slowly got to her feet, scowling at her best friend. She slowly walked toward the open door.  
"You'd better not choose a shit film!" Amy warned as she exited.  
"Pizza's on my shelf in the fridge!" Georgia called.  
She pulled two clean glasses out of the drawer of her desk and unscrewed the cap of the vodka bottle, pouring two big glasses of alcohol for the two of them. She set them down on the desk next to her keys and knelt beside her stack of DVDs which were piled against the wall. She scanned the titles before reading a movie title that made her heart skip a beat. It was a very old film starring Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant. It was called Notting Hill. Georgia had owned the films for most of her life and absolutely loved it. It was one of the first films she and Amy had watched together and for years it had become tradition to watch it whenever one of them was feeling upset so she felt it fitting that they should watch it. She pulled it out of the stack and switched on her laptop and typed in her password and the screen filled with bright colours as the Microsoft logo appeared. She opened the disk tray and opened the DVD case, but her mobile phone began to vibrate. She set the DVD down and pulled the Smartphone out of her pocket and saw that whoever was calling her had withheld their number. She accepted the call and pressed the phone to her ear, "Hello?"  
"Hello Georgia," the caller greeted with his deep, menacing voice.  
"Who is this?" she asked.  
"I can be whoever you want me to be."  
Georgia frowned, "I'd rather just know who you are."  
"What if I don't want to tell you?"  
"Then I'll hang up," Georgia replied bluntly.  
"But I thought we had chemistry," the caller pleaded.  
"I don't think so mate."  
She took the phone away from her ear ready to hang up.  
"WAIT!" the caller yelled.  
She sighed, "What?"  
"Don't you want to know where Amy is?" he asked.  
"I know where she is."  
"Are you sure about that? Open the case."  
"What case?" she asked.  
"Notting Hill," he grunted.  
Georgia opened the case and looked down at the disk. The Notting Hill DVD had been by a plain disk with writing on it with marker pen. It read, "Watch me".  
"Put it in your laptop and watch it," the caller instructed.  
Georgia did as she was told and inserted the disk, waiting for it to load. The screen went black and all she could hear was whispering. She turned the volume up to the maximum, but the whispering was too quiet to hear. She leaned in closely, but suddenly there was a scream and a horrifically ugly demon appeared in the centre of the screen. Georgia leapt backward and fell onto the bed, her heart pounding. The caller laughed.  
"Gotcha!"  
"Who are you?" Georgia whimpered.  
"That's not the question I'd ask," He growled, "I'd ask what I've done to Amy."  
Georgia dropped the phone and sprinted out of her room and toward the kitchen at the end of the corridor. She burst through the doorway, ready for the worst, but the kitchen was empty.  
"Amy?" she called.  
There was no answer. All she could hear was the sound of the oven on full blast and she saw the pizza from the fridge lying unopened on the work surface, but Amy was nowhere to be seen.  
"Amy?" Georgia called.  
Again there was no answer. She stepped forward, seeing Amy's mobile phone sitting next to the pizza. She walked toward it, but her foot landed in liquid and she slipped. She tumbled backward onto the hard, tiled floor. She groaned in pain, but then felt something seeping into her clothes, soaking her back. She looked at the floor beneath her and saw that she was lying in a pool of red liquid. Blood. She quickly knelt up and clasped her hands to her mouth in shock. Then she looked at the oven door. Through the darkened glass she could see a shadowy outline, but could not tell what it was. It was certainly not pizza. She reached out and slowly grasped the handle with her bloodied fingers. With one swift movement she pulled the door open and what she saw made her feel sick. Amy's severed head sat in the oven, being cooked by the oven. Her skin was boiling and burning like the finest crackling from a pig. Amy's lifeless eyes stared up at Georgia. She screamed in horror and leapt to her feet, sprinting out of the kitchen. She leapt down the stairs, taking it two at a time before she reached the ground floor. She sprinted at the front door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Georgia swore and slammed her fists onto the door. She needed her keys. She crept back over to the staircase and peered up it. It was empty. She stopped panting and slowly made her way back up it to the open door of her room. She looked both ways down the corridor before hurrying inside. She ran over to the desk, but her keys were gone. Her heart was pounding faster than it ever had before. She looked up and saw her window and rushed over to it and tried to pull it open, but it was locked. She grabbed a stapler off her desk and threw it at the glass. It shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere. Georgia looked out of the window and saw the twenty foot drop onto the grassy courtyard. She gulped and slowly began to climb out, but she heard heavy footsteps behind her. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders. Georgia screamed and tried to fight off her attacker, but she slipped and fell from the window. She closed her eyes as she saw the ground rush toward her. There was a crack and her entire body seared with pain. She cried out and rolled onto her back, staring back up at the window. There was no sign of the attacker. Georgia looked at the main source of pain, her leg and cried out in shock. Her tibia and fibula had both snapped and were jotting out of the skin of her right leg. She suddenly felt light headed and fell back into the grass, her eyes blurring. She felt strong hands grab her shoulders again, but she could do nothing to fight them off as he dragged her across the grass and back through the open door to her halls building. He dragged her back up the stairs and dropped her on the floor off her room. She looked up at him and saw her attacker for the first time. He was dressed in black robes, black gloves and he was wearing a mask, a Ghostface mask. In his gloved hand he held a long, glistening buck knife.  
"Please," Georgia whispered, "Don't kill me."  
The killer looked down at his knife and pocketed it once again. Georgia's heart lifted, thinking he would let her live she smiled. She stopped as she saw him reach for the vodka bottle. He unscrewed the cap again and stood over her. She could tell whoever the killer was; he was smiling underneath the mask. He tilted the bottle and poured the clear liquid over the defenceless women as she cried out. He emptied the bottle and threw it to the ground where it smashed into dozens of jagged pieces. He pulled out a box of matches and Georgia's skin began to crawl. He pulled one out of the box. She cried out, trying to crawl away from him, but the pain in her leg was two great. He struck it against the side of the box and the end of the match lit up with flame.  
"No!" Georgia screamed, "Please don't!"  
The killer dropped the match. It hung in the air for a millisecond and then fell down onto Georgia's chest. The vodka ignited and her whole body was engulfed in flame. She screamed as she writhed on the floor as the fire melted her skin. The killer watched with glee as she screamed and tried to move. But then she was still and silence echoed through the room. The killer turned and walked out of the room, leaving the body of Georgia Evans to roast on the floor of her bedroom.

Chapter One  
The sun slowly started to rise over the University Campus in Stoke. Despite the mighty star's blossoming orange rays, the air was cold and frost lay on every smooth surface across the city. Snow had been forecast and it was just a matter of time until the sky was covered by dense white cloud and flakes of frozen ice began to fall. The trees had already shed their leaves leaving just the gothic branches, reaching and twisting into menacing positions as if they were ancient beasts awakening from a deep slumber. It was barely seven am, but the streets were already busy with traffic, milkmen, postal vans and buses were starting their days work, going about their daily business. But something appeared that was very out of the ordinary. Something very out of the ordinary indeed. Half a dozen police cars sped through the streets of Stoke, their sirens blazing as a warning for other motorists to clear the road. Bystanders watched with intrigue as the vehicles sped by, wondering what must be such an emergency at seven o'clock on a Saturday morning. They screeched to a halt outside one of the many student housing blocks. A dozen uniformed police officers leapt out of their vehicles and sprinted in the front door as those students that had arisen early watched intently. Murder was a thing these police officers rarely saw.

The digital alarm clock reached seven o'clock. For a second there was absolute silence, but then the clock sent out an ugly, loud wake up call which sounded very much like an air-raid siren which if listen to for too long would make one's ears bleed. A thin white arm wearily reached out from a mountain of duvet covers on the bed and pressed the snooze button with its long, bony fingers. It was far too early to get up the occupant thought, but he knew he would not be able to get back to sleep. He threw the duvet off himself. Liam Cook lay alone in his single mattress bed. He slowly rubbed his eyes and let out a loud yawn. He heaved himself up into a seated position and ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. Liam was in his first year at the University where he was studying to become a dentist. Becoming a dentist had been his dream ever since he was a child and he visited his uncle who owned his own dental practise in California and made over four hundred thousand dollars a year after taxes. Liam was not ashamed to admit that he had been tempted by the money. He had studied Biology, Chemistry and Maths at A-Level in order to prepare him for his five year course. The first term of his degree had gone very well. At first he was struggling with the amount of work he had to do and found it difficult to meet deadlines, but after a meeting with his tutor he managed to get back on track and developed a time management scheme so he always knew when he had to do work and when he had an upcoming deadline. Liam rubbed his forehead to try to stifle his killer headache. He and his group of friends had spent the whole night out and he didn't arrive home until three o'clock in the morning. He must have spent over fifty pounds on alcohol the night before which was money as a student he did not have. He already regretted it, knowing he had drunk too much. He felt sick and had a pounding headache. Just like every other student in the hall residences, Liam's room was tiny with just enough room for a desk, a bed and a wardrobe. He slowly climbed out of bed and slowly stretched his aching body. He was relatively short for his age which had always been the source of banter between him and his friends. He didn't mind it for he was rather quick witted himself and always retorted with something. Liam was very concerned with the way he looked and always spent a significant amount of time to make himself look good. He grabbed his towel which sat on the back of his desk chair and walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out a bottle of his favourite shampoo. He wrapped the towel around his waist covering his Jack Wills boxer shorts and moved toward the door of his bedroom. He pulled it open and stepped out into the corridor. At the University there were two types of residence for students. The cheaper option was to get just your room and use three communal bathrooms or pay £30 extra a month to get an en suite bathroom. Liam had chosen to go with the former as he thought it would be a good way to meet people as he also had to use a communal kitchen so he believed it made sense. But he did not like queuing for the bathroom every morning. He sighed as he looked at the bathroom door. Four fellow students were already waiting in line to use it. Every day without fail there were at least two people who beat Liam to use the facilities. He stood at the back of the queue, groaning to himself. He thought that as everyone would have been out the night before that there would be no queue, but obviously he had been mistaken. He leant against the corridor wall knowing that he would not get into the shower for at least twenty minutes. He looked down at his shampoo bottle and began his daily routine of reading every single ingredient on the label. He did this virtually every morning and had memorised every single ingredient. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He slowly peered round and looked into the face of his best friend Leah Scott. Liam and Leah lived opposite each other and had met on their very first day in Stoke. Incredibly their hometowns were less than five miles apart and they went to the same college, but had never met. The two had spent a lot of time together and had quickly become close. They always ate together and did pretty much everything together. She smiled with a wide, toothy grin, "How's the head?"  
"Awful," he grimaced, "Where did you get off to last night?"  
"I can't remember," Liam blushed, "It was a bit of a mad one."  
"You're so classy," he winked.  
Leah ignored him, "Are you looking forward to going home?"  
"I guess so," Liam shrugged, "But it doesn't really feel like home anymore. This place does."  
Leah nodded, "I know what you mean. Being here and being independent has really changed me and I love it."  
He smiled as he continued to stare into his friend's eyes. From the first moment they had met, he knew that he was in love with her, his heart raced every time they met and he could sit and listen to her talk for hours on end. He would do anything for her. But he had been permanently friend zoned and he knew he had missed his opportunity to profess his feelings toward her. He continued to watch her mouth as she talked, not taking in a word whatsoever for he was in a blissful daydream.  
"Liam!" she yelled.  
He was sucked from his own mind and came back to planet Earth. He shook his head and looked at her in confusion, "What?"  
"Shower's free," she chuckled.  
Liam turned his head and saw nobody ahead of him. He smiled to himself and looked back at Leah, "Sorry, I was in a world of my own."  
"You can say that again!"  
Liam laughed.  
"Well get in there!" she ordered, "I don't want to wait all day!"  
Liam spun on the spot and headed into the shower. Leah watched as he went, a smile creeping across her face.

Half an hour later, Liam stood in his room getting dressed. He pulled on a pair of black jeans and fastened the buckle. He pulled a tight white Hollister t-shirt out of his wardrobe and pulled it over his bare torso and stretched once again, his shoulders clicked in a very satisfying way and he sighed. He pulled on a pair of white socks and grabbed a blue designer hooded sweatshirt and pulled it on over his t-shirt. He yawned once again and sat down on his bed. Every Saturday morning he and his group of friends went to a local café and had the student special breakfast which included two of everything for just £2.50. He checked the time on his alarm clock. It was half past seven and they weren't meeting until eight o'clock which meant he had half an hour of doing nothing. His phone began to ring on his bedside table. He reached out and picked it up, looking down at the caller ID. He was being called by Georgia Evans. He smiled, accepting the call and pressing his phone to his ear.  
"Hey Georgia," he greeted.  
There was no answer. All Liam could hear was heavy breathing on the other end of the phone.  
"Hello?" he said, "Georgia are you alright?"  
Still no one replied. Liam frowned in frustration as the caller hung up. He quickly redialled, pressing it to his ear once again. It barely rung once before a robotic voice told him that the phone was unavailable. He shrugged and slipped the phone into the pocket of his jeans. That night was the annual Christmas Blowout, the night when all the students go out to party before leaving Stoke for the Christmas break. It was the night when all bars in the city lowered their prices to get rid of any alcohol that they had remaining to make way for the new stock which usually arrives in the New Year. Liam did not really want to go, but he didn't feel as if he had a choice as all his friends were going and they wouldn't let him not come. Little did he know that he would regret going. Little did he know that the Christmas Blowout would be the worst night of his life.

Chapter Two  
After previously being known for a series of brutal massacres, the small town of Steyning had become increasingly quiet over the years. Many of its residents had moved away, fearing that the infamous killings would occur once again. The majority of shops had closed down as there was not enough customers left to shop in them. In the immediate aftermath of the killings, Steyning had become famous and thousands of tourists flocked to see the setting of the Steyning Massacres. The most horrific crimes in the history of the British Isles, but once the coverage died down, so did the tourist attraction and for four years Steyning had become a ghost town. It was a cold, grey morning, frost covered the windows of cars and the streets were deserted. A lone figure jogged down the high street. She was wearing expensive nylon training wear and her long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail. She had her iPod in the pocket of her trousers with the headphones tucked into her ears as she listened to inspirational music to help her run. At her age she needed to keep exercising regularly in order to keep her figure as that day was her fortieth birthday. Every morning she ran for about half an hour taking the same route each time before going to the gym after she had lunch. The woman stopped outside an empty shop. It was Chloe's Boutique. It had previously been owned by Chloe Denyer, alumni of Steyning Grammar School and victim of the Steyning Massacres. She had survived the third and forth massacres before having her life prematurely ended during the horrors of Crocodile Island four years beforehand. Alice Lidbetter groaned as she peered through the windows into the empty shop. Chloe had been murdered by Ben Clement, one of the people she trusted most in the world. Alice remembered that day as if it were etched onto her memory.

Chloe sat in the police station on Crocodile Island. She had been nominated as the person who stayed behind. Sam Plowman was locked in one of the cells after being captured and Chloe had to make sure he didn't try to escape. They had been gone for the best part of twenty minutes and Chloe did not feel safe being in the same room as Plowman, even if he was behind bars. She yawned and slowly rubbed her eyes. She hadn't been to sleep for the best part of thirty six hours and fatigue was quickly catching up on her. She hung her head in her hands and closed her eyes tightly shut. She could feel the tiredness taking over her body, in seconds she would be fast asleep. She heard a dull click and looked up, thinking the other survivors were back, but no one stepped in through the door. She looked up, confused. She scanned the room with her eyes and saw something of pure terror. The door to Plowman's cell was wide open and he was nowhere to be seen.  
"Shit," she whispered.  
Plowman leapt up from behind her and grabbed her neck from behind with Chris' belt, the leather strap cutting off her windpipe. She gasped in shock, falling backward off her chair. He dragged her through the room as her vision began to blur.  
"Sorry Chloe," he breathed in her ear.  
She reached around on Sheriff Lidbetter's desk for something to protect herself with and found a stapler. She opened it and slammed it onto Plowman's forehead, a single metal staple being injected into his skin. He cried out on pain and released her and Chloe dashed for the door, sprinting through it. Plowman dropped the belt to the floor and grabbed the staple which jotted out of his bleeding forehead and he ripped it out and looked down at it in anger, throwing it across the room. Chloe stumbled into the open air and heard Plowman bustling around inside the police station. She turned and ran, knowing she only has one chance of survival and that was if she outran Plowman. For minutes she ran and she could feel her body aching. She could not run any farther, but she knew Plowman must be right behind her. She slowly peered over her shoulder and saw nothing. The area was deserted. She stopped and panted. She had absolutely no idea where her foe was. She turned and felt strong arms grabbing her. She cried out in fear, thinking her life was going to end, but she recognized Ben's soothing aftershave and she breathed a sigh of relief.  
"Ben!" she exclaimed.  
She hugged him, knowing she was going to be okay. She was safe.  
"Plowman escaped!" she panted.  
Ben nodded, "I know. I gave him the key."  
Chloe looked up into his eyes, her face white with shock, "What?!"  
"Chris was right," Ben told her, "Plowman has an accomplice, it's just not Amy."  
"That's not funny Ben," Chloe told him sternly.  
"I'm sorry," he sighed, "But it's not a joke."  
Chloe stumbled backward, looking at Ben with teary eyes, "You've killed everyone! The Sheriff, Joe, Kim, Simon. They're all dead because of you."  
"I know," Ben smiled, "But they had to go. They were in the way."  
Chloe turned to run away, but Ben kicked her legs away and she tumbled down onto the dry mud. She began to sob uncontrollably as she tried to crawl away. Ben strode forward and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her backward. He leant in close and whispered in her ear, "Now you're in the way."  
She wrenched her hair out of his grip and turned and began hitting him in the chest, "You bastard! You bastard!"  
"I know," he whispered, "It's not fair."  
There was a sickening squelch. Chloe's eyes widened in shock as Ben thrust his knife into her side. She winced. The pain of Ben's betrayal hurt almost as much as being stabbed.  
"I'm sorry," Ben whispered, "I always liked you Chloe, you really shouldn't have come to this island."  
He sliced up with the blade and it pierced her organs. Chloe gasped again and her eyes widened as the life slowly began to leave them. She began to wheeze as Ben eased her down to the floor and lay her down. He could feel the life draining from her body. Chloe looked up with Ben as tears poured from her eyes. It was ironic that the last sight that Chloe Denyer would ever see was the face of her killer. Ben slowly pulled the knife out of her body and looked from the bloodied blade to Chloe's lifeless body. He leant in and kissed her on the forehead, "I'm sorry Chloe."  
He looked to his left and saw Sam Plowman staring down at him victoriously.  
"Hey Sam," Ben murmured.

A tear rolled down Alice's cheek. She pressed her hand to the cold class of Chloe's shop. Alice had lost so many people. So many people she had loved. She would have given anything to have her friends back. She wiped away her tear and continued jogging. She dashed to the end of the high street where there was a small country road named Mouse Lane. Alice continued down the empty road for another mile. She saw her house and stopped running, panting and wiping the sweat off her forehead. Alice lived in a very old brick cottage. She had bought it three years beforehand without a mortgage and had spent that time doing the house up so it could be somewhere where Alice could spend the rest of her days. Alice had lived in solitude since the events of Crocodile Island. Only she and two others made it off the island alive. She, her best friend Jackson Jones and Doctor Kelsey Welch, but she was still haunted by her memories of the killings. The Crocodile Island Massacre was the fifth massacre Alice had been a part of and she could still remember the faces of all those she had lost. In those horrible times, Alice had lost more friends than most people do in a lifetime. She limped back to her front door. Her feet were sore. She had run too far and her feet were blistered. She pulled her house keys out of her pocket, but fumbled them and they fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor. She groaned and bent down to pick them up.  
"Need a hand?" a voice asked from behind them.  
She slowly looked over her shoulder and saw a tall figure looming over her. He was wearing all black, black leather boots, black jeans, a black jumper, a heavy black trench coat and black leather gloves. She looked up at her face and instantly recognized the thick brown hair and blue eyes.  
"JACKSON?!" she exclaimed.  
She leapt to her feet and pulled the figure into a tight hug. Jackson Jones laughed.  
"What the hell are you doing back here?!" she demanded.  
For the past three years Jackson had been living in Los Angeles where he had been writing scripts for a series of very successful films. His work had been released to critical acclaim and he had won two Oscars which were both for films directed by Christopher Nolan which had stormed the Academy Awards. Alice was pleased that Jackson had been able to move on and had been able to continue his career after the events of Crocodile Island, but there was a part of her that missed him and wished him to come back for good.  
"Do you really think I would miss my best friend's fortieth birthday?" he grinned.  
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in purple wrapping paper. He passed it to Alice. She beamed, "You didn't have to get me a present!"  
"I know," Jackson nodded, "But I wanted to."  
She eagerly tore off the wrapping paper revealing the white box beneath. She lifted off the lid and gasped as she saw the beautiful diamond encrusted necklace beneath.  
"I know you lost your necklace on the island," he told her, "So I thought it would be time for a new one."  
Alice pulled him into another tight hug as her eyes clouded over with tears, "I love it."  
"I fly two thousand miles and you don't even offer me a cup of tea!" he winked, "It's an outrage!"  
Alice chuckled, "Come on in."  
She slotted her key into the lock and twisted it. The heavy oak door unlocked and she pushed it open and stepped into the hall. Jackson followed her inside and looked around in awe. The floor was solid oak and there was an enormous marble fireplace in the lounge. The inside of the house looked superb.  
"This place is amazing!" he exclaimed.  
She grinned, "Thanks. I had to do it all myself, it was a dump when I bought it."  
"That must of taken years!"  
"It did!" she told him, "At least it gave me something to do."  
"I can't believe you've lived here three years and I haven't seen it," Jackson said as Alice led him into the white tiled kitchen.  
"That's because you haven't visited," she said under her breath.  
Alice filled up her kettle with water from the tap and set it upon one of the rings of her AGA to boil. She reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out two mugs and dropped tea bags into them. Jackson sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and stared at her.  
"I'm sorry for leaving," he sighed.  
Alice looked around at him and shrugged, "You did what you had to."  
She turned back to the AGA trying to stifle her tears.  
"No," Jackson told her, "It was wrong of me, I left as soon as I could, but I should have stayed."  
"It's fine," Alice mumbled, "I'm fine."  
"No you're not fine!" Jackson argued, "I spoke to Kelsey a couple of months ago. She said you've been ignoring her calls! You're shutting yourself away again!"  
"What choice do I have?" Alice yelled, "You fucking left me!"  
She threw one of the mugs across the kitchen where it collided against the wall and shattered. She sprinted from the room as tears streamed from her eyes. Jackson sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Alice ran into her downstairs bathroom and slammed the door behind her, locking it. She leant against the door and slid down it, sitting on the floor with her head on her hands, sobbing loudly. Alice knew she was being selfish for blaming Jackson for leaving, but she needed her best friend with her in her time of need. Kelsey had tried to deputize, but it just wasn't the same. She wasn't Jackson. There was a gentle knocking on the other side of the door.  
"Alice?" Jackson whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left, but I never will again. I'm not going back to LA."  
He heard a click as the door was unlocked. Alice looked at him with shocked eyes, "Really?"  
He nodded, "I'm not going anywhere."  
She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around his body and burying her head into his shoulder. He smiled and held her firmly.  
"I'm always going to be here for you," he assured her, "You'll never have to be alone again."  
Alice beamed and wiped away her tears.  
"Where's Kelsey?" she sniffed.  
Jackson grinned, "Don't you watch television?"

Doctor Kelsey Welch sat in her dressing room, her make-up being applied by a member of staff as she sat in front of a mirror. The thirty seven year old psychiatrist had now received fame beyond belief since the Crocodile Island Massacre and all she had done was survive. Kelsey had managed to escape the island and the wrath of Sam Plowman and Ben Clement after being saved by police officers, but not before she had witnessed dozens of people killed. People she had only just met, but cared about greatly. Chris Rantzau, Abi Oakley, Ollie Stimpson, Chloe Denyer, Amy Linsdell. These were just a few names of innocent people who lost their lives on that fateful weekend. Kelsey was told by police that both Alice and Jackson had perished in a fire at the local bar. Kelsey had felt terrible for leaving them to their deaths when she could have helped. But against the odds, Alice and Jackson both survived and escaped the island after the deaths of both killers bringing the Ghostface killings to an end once and for all. Like the others, Kelsey still had nightmares about the events she had endured like when she had to face off with Sam Plowman in a burning building with no possible means of escape. But Kelsey had managed to move on with her life and found her success. She had published a very well received book about depression. Kelsey had received fame. She appeared on television at least once a week whether it be on satirical programs, political programs or current affairs programs. Kelsey's face was everywhere. Kelsey had been invited to appear on the infamous BBC show Have I got News for You. When she received the invitation she was ecstatic. She had always loved the show ever since her days at University and had always wanted to appear on it and now her time had come. There was a knock at the door behind them and a sheepish young stagehand popped his head through the door, "We're on in thirty seconds Doctor Welch."  
She smiled, "Thanks, I'll be right there."  
She checked her make-up in the mirror before climbing to her feet. Her heart was racing. She was nervous about appearing on her favourite program of all time. She gulped and followed the stagehand through the studio until they reached the iconic set. She took her seat as the lights went down. She looked over at her team-mate. She was on Paul Merton's team. He was her hero, she thought he was the funniest man on the planet. He smiled at her and shook her hand.  
"Don't be nervous," he winked.  
"Bit late for that," Kelsey shivered.

After the recording Kelsey made her way back to her dressing room with a constant smile on her face. That had been the funniest thing she had ever been involved with. Paul Merton and Ian His lop had been as funny as always and she had held her own against her comedian comrades. She stepped back into her dressing room and laughed to herself.  
"Great show out there," her make-up artist beamed.  
"Thanks," Kelsey smiled, "I'm still so nervous. Am I dreaming?"  
She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and shook her head allowing her long hair to hang freely. She collapsed into her chair and yawned.  
"I'll see you later," the make-up artist smiled before exiting.  
Kelsey leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. Her mobile phone began to ring. She pulled it out of the pocket of her trousers and answered it, "Hello?"  
"You look good on television," a deep voice told her.  
"Who is this?" Kelsey demanded.  
Her skin lost all of its colour and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end.  
"It's Jackson," the called laughed.  
Kelsey leapt to her feet, "Jackson?!"  
"You bet!" he told her, "You'd better get your arse over to Alice's house now! Her fortieth birthday is a pretty big deal!"  
Kelsey beamed, "Good thing I've got her a present then! I'll be there as soon as I can."  
"I'll see you soon."  
Kelsey looked down at her phone as Jackson hung up. That was the first time she had spoken to him in months. Her heart raced. She was going to see her best friends again.

Chapter Three  
A dozen uniformed Police Officers searched the murder scene, taking photographs of evidence before their bosses arrived. All of the students who lived in the block had been expelled from their rooms until the police investigation was over. One officer looked down at Georgia Evans' burned carcass. A frown reached across his brow. He was trying to piece together what happened. Matt Harwood had only just qualified from the police academy in London before taking the job in Stoke six months beforehand and since then he had only dealt with car accidents and muggings, never anything as serious as a double homicide, especially one as sadistic as this. Harwood knelt down beside her body and ran his fingers through his dark blond hair and tried to imagine the horror that has occurred the previous night. Harwood had excelled through his school years and wanted careers in Politics and teaching before deciding to become a Police Officer after watching such television shows as CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and was inspired. His chosen career had treated him well in his life so far, he had shot through the academy with flying colours, becoming the student with the highest final grades in the past fifty years and received his badge. He then accepted a job offer in Stoke for a senior Officer. He was surprised to be offered such a high ranking position, but was overjoyed that his hard work was recognised. He had hoped he would soon be promoted to Detective Inspector, but he had yet to impress his boss enough yet. Maybe this was his chance, maybe he could solve the case himself and win his boss' respect. He looked down at Georgia's corpse again. Traces of her blood were found on the grass beneath her bedroom window suggesting she momentarily escaped. The killer seemed to reach her and dragged her back up the stairs before killing her in her own bedroom. There was still the smell of burnt vodka in the air and the empty glass bottle lay on the floor next to her. Harwood got to his feet and marched into the kitchen where they had found the second victim. Amy Mitchell had been decapitated before being stuffed into a cabinet. Her head was tossed into the oven and burnt to a crisp. Harwood believed she had been killed first, she had been ambushed, the killer having stabbed her in the back before severing her head. He continued to taunt Georgia until she found her friend's corpse. The families of the victims had already been informed and now Harwood was waiting for his superiors to arrive. He glanced over at the open oven and caught a glimpse of Amy Mitchell's charred head, her face permanently contorted into an expression of pain, her skin being so burned it was more like stone than flesh. Harwood turned away, the sight was sickening, but he felt sorry more than anything, sorry for the girls and sorry for their families. It was horrific that someone would want to take the lives of two young girls at the height of their potential. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He certainly did not need this type of grief this early on a Saturday morning. He knew only one thing, he would do all he could to catch the killer and bring him to justice for the girls. He heard footsteps on the stairs. He turned his head and saw two people in sharp grey suits marching up the staircase toward them. One was male and in his late fifties, his dark hair lined with silver. His expression was contorted into a constant frown and he had small dark eyes that always looked upon people with a scowl. He looked as if he hated his job and wanted nothing more than an early retirement. Harwood recognised hi instantly. His name was Detective Chief Inspector Phillip Nolan. He was in charge of the Stoke City police station. Harwood had never spoken to him, he rarely ever saw the man out of his office. His companion was much shorter and younger than he. She had long frizzy dark hair and had a face much friendlier than her boss. She was in her early thirties. Her eyes looked as if they were the eyes of someone double her age, they were wise and filled with knowledge. She was second in command of his unit. Detective Inspector Lily Taylor was much more welcoming than Nolan and had been the one that hired him.  
"Who's in charge here?" Nolan grunted with a voice that had been ruined by a twenty a day cigarette habit.  
Harwood leapt into action and rushed forward, offering his hand, "I am sir. Officer Matt Harwood."  
Nolan ignored his offered handshake and barged past him into the kitchen and began taking everything in. The young officer shook his hand and smiled, "Good to see you again Officer. Don't worry about him. He has no emotion.  
A smile crept across the corner of Harwood's mouth as Nolan glared at Taylor.  
"Can we concentrate please?" he snapped.  
Taylor wiped the smile from her face and stepped to his side, "Sorry sir."  
"What happened here?" Nolan demanded.  
"Two students were murdered last night. Amy Mitchell and Georgia Evans-" Harwood began.  
"I know that!" Nolan interrupted bluntly, But what happened?"  
"I believe Mitchell was killed first," Harwood explained, "The killer then used it to taunt Evans before-"  
"Don't you have this written down?" Nolan asked, "It's not that your voice annoys me, actually your voice does annoy me, so do you have a report?"  
Harwood nodded and picked up a paper report off the counter and passed it to the senior officer who began to read it. Nolan scowled, "Your handwriting is terrible."  
Harwood glared at him. I didn't realise I was back at school, he thought.  
"Was there any evidence?" Nolan asked.  
"No sir," Harwood replied, "Whoever did this was professional."  
"Well that's just fantastic," he grumbled.  
"Sir," Taylor muttered, "Do you remember the Steyning Massacres?"  
Nolan looked up from the sheet of paper, "Of course I do. Who doesn't?"  
Harwood looked between then, having no idea what they were talking about.  
"These killing seem very similar," she pondered.  
"Are you kidding me?!" Nolan exclaimed, "Those things are over! And besides we're over two hundred miles away from Steyning. What on Earth makes you think they will happen again here?!"  
Taylor blushed, bowing her head, "Sorry sir."  
"What are the Steyning Massacres?" Harwood asked.  
Nolan ignored him and gestured to the uniformed Police Officers, "Get your men out of here. This is our crime scene now."  
Nolan moved off, kneeling beside Amy's body. Taylor turned to him as he glared at the back of Nolan's head with a stare that would burn souls, if only he had one. She touched his shoulder, "Trust me, do as he says. It's not worth losing your job over."  
"He'd fire me for questioning him?"  
"Oh no, he'll fire you if you don't leave. If you question him he'll kill you."

Liam and Leah slowly made their way through the campus grounds which surrounded each student housing building. They were both wrapped in thick, warm clothes despite the early morning sunshine it was freezing cold. The sky was covered in thick white cloud and both of the weather report had predicted snow to fall. The two of them were going to meet the rest of their friendship group for breakfast so they could discuss their plans for the Christmas Blowout.  
"You looking forward to tonight?" Leah asked.  
"Yeah ," Liam nodded, "It should be a laugh. What other ways are there to waste the little money I have."  
His companion smiled to herself before concentrating hard for a few seconds, "Liam?"  
He looked across at her expectantly, "Yeah?"  
"Why don't you like Alex?" she asked.  
He stopped still, "What?"  
Alex Green was Leah's long term boyfriend who had followed her to University. He seemed a nice enough person, but Liam absolutely hated him for only reason. He was dating Leah.  
"I don't hate Alex," he lied.  
Leah smiled knowingly at him, "Yes you do. I can see the way you look at him, so what is it? Do you think he's not good enough for me?"  
Liam grabbed her shoulder, "Listen to me, I don't hate Alex!"  
She sighed, "Alright then."  
She began to walk again. Liam watched as he followed her. He hated lying to his best friend, but if he wanted to stay friends with her he had to lie. What would he say to her? "I hate Alex because I'm in love with you." It was stupid. He could never profess his feelings toward her. He sucked up his emotions and carried on at her side.  
"Hey guys!"  
They spun around and saw George Stokes sprinting toward them across the grass, a wide grin on his face. He reached them in seconds and swung his arms around both their shoulders.  
"Last night was fucking epic!" he exclaimed.  
"Had fun then?" Leah asked.  
"Hell yeah!" George laughed, "Best night of my life. Where the hell were you?"  
"I don't remember," she blushed, "Last night was a little messy."  
"Alex was looking for you," George told her.  
Liam quickly tired to change the subject, "You get lucky then George?"  
"Hell to the yeah!" he chuckled, "She's still in my room."  
"You just left her there?" Leah asked, her face shocked.  
"I just thought I'd let her have time to get the hell out before I got back!"  
"You're an animal George," Liam smiled.  
"Don't you just love it?" he winked.  
"I thought you were in love with Amy?" Leah asked.  
His smile faded, "Yeah I am, but she rejected me."  
"What?" Liam asked, "She rejected you?"  
He slowly nodded, "I asked her out and she said no."  
"I'm sorry dude," Liam groaned.  
He shrugged, "I guess that's just one of those things. That's why from now until Christmas I'm going to get as much action as possible."  
They waked across the grounds together, striding past hall building after hall building. Ahead of them they saw another of their friends leaning against a tree. Grace Dollner beamed as she saw them. Grace was studying education at University with the ambition of becoming a primary school teacher. Grace had long, thick blonde hair which always seemed to go frizzy when she was stressed or upset.  
"Morning," she waved.  
"How's your head?" George asked.  
"Pounding," she winced, "But I'm well up for tonight!"  
"Oh my God same!" Leah exclaimed, "It'll be the last time I see you guys for ages!"  
"I can't believe term is over already," George added, "It's gone so quickly."  
"Tell me about it," Leah gasped, "It seems like yesterday when we all met for the first time."  
"We were all like rabbits in headlights," Grace laughed.  
Liam looked down at his watch, "Where's Georgia and Amy?"  
"Probably dead," George laughed, "They went back to halls to drink a bottle of vodka. You know what they're like."  
"Let's just go now," Leah suggested, "They can meet us later."  
The group nodded in agreement and began to walk to a local café together. Suddenly someone grabbed Leah from behind. She screamed, The four of them all leapt around and saw the grinning face of Alex Green. Leah pushed him in the chest angrily as he laughed, "You scared the shit out of me!"  
"I'm sorry baby," he smiled as he tried to stifle his laughter.  
"It's not funny," Leah told him as she kissed him.  
Liam scowled at Leah's blond boyfriend as she kissed him passionately.  
"Wow," George grimaced, "Get a room."  
"That comes later," Alex winked.  
"Gross," Grace told him.  
"You coming for breakfast?" Leah asked.  
He nodded, "I need a fry-up after last night."  
"I think we all do," George added.  
Liam kept silent, but continued to scowl at Alex behind his back. Grace noticed and tried to divert the groups attention as Liam had told her all about his feelings toward Leah.  
"Let's get going," she smiled.  
The five of them walked onward. They saw dozens of students standing outside one of the student residence buildings whilst half a dozen police cars were parked out the front.  
"What's going on?" George wondered out loud.  
The group stopped at the back of the crowd. Alex grabbed the shoulder of one of them and turned him round.  
"What's going on?" he demanded.  
The student looked up at him shocked, "You haven't heard? Georgia Evans and Amy Mitchell were murdered last night."  
The five of them were silenced by shock.

Chapter Four  
Kelsey Welch pulled the handbrake on her Land Rover outside Alice Lidbetter's house. She leapt out of the vehicle and sprinted toward the front door, but before she could knock on it, it was pulled open. Jackson Jones stood in the doorway, beaming at her.  
"Hey Kels," he grinned.  
Kelsey leapt at him and pulled him into a tight hug, tears flooded from her eyes. She had certainly missed her best friend.  
"I can't believe you're back!" she exclaimed.  
He nodded, "Now I'm back for good."  
"Really?" Kelsey gasped.  
"I'm never leaving again," he grinned.  
"It's going to be just like the old days!" she grinned, "Well without the death and murder."  
"It's great to see you," he smiled, "But there's someone who wants to say hi."  
He moved to the side revealing Alice standing behind him, her cheeks were stained with tears. She gave a half smile, "I'm sorry for not returning your calls."  
Kelsey ignored her apology and hugged her, "You have nothing to be sorry about."  
The two women burst into tears of happiness as they embraced.  
"Jeez girls, get a room," Jackson winked.  
Kelsey grabbed his collar, "Get in here."  
She dragged him into the hug and the three of them were together for the first time in years. Suddenly something began vibrating. Jackson moved out of the hug and pulled his Smartphone out of his pocket and looked down at the caller ID. He frowned.  
"I have to take this," he told them, "I'll be right back."  
He stepped away from the two women and answered the call, pressing the phone to his ear, "Hi Doctor Cooper, thanks for calling me back so soon."  
"I have your test results back Jackson," the General Practitioner told him, "Can you come in?"  
"Of course," Jackson replied, "I can be there in ten minutes."  
He hung up and slipped the phone back into the pocket of his trench coat. His heart raced, he was more terrified than he had ever been. Even more terrified than the times he had faced a serial killer. He gulped.  
"Jackson?" Alice asked, her voice filled with worry.  
He looked back and saw Alice and Kelsey peering at him through the doorway.  
"Is everything alright?"  
He nodded. He knew it wasn't. He knew the next hour would define the rest of his life. He forced a smile, "I have to go for a bit."  
"What?" Alice asked, "Why?"  
"I have an appointment," he smiled, It's fine."  
"What kind of appointment?" Kelsey asked.  
"Just a dentist appointment," he shrugged, "Nothing major."  
Alice nodded whilst Kelsey looked at him knowingly. He grinned at her, "I'm going to need your keys."  
She looked at him suspiciously.  
"Please," he smiled, "I'll be careful."  
She reluctantly pulled out her car keys from her jacket pocket and threw them to him. He caught them and winked, "I'll see you in a bit."

Half an hour later, Jackson sat in Doctor Cooper's office deep within the Steyning Health Centre. He was staring down at a sheet of white paper on which his diagnosis was written. His hands were shaking and his skin was completely white. His worst fears had come true. His heart was racing at the pure terror that he knew lay ahead of him.  
"I'm so sorry Jackson," the GP told him.  
His patient looked up at him in shock, "Is it going to get worse?"  
Cooper nodded, "I'm afraid so."  
"When?"  
The General Practitioner sighed, "We don't know the exact timescale. We don't know when you will reach your worst."  
"But if you had to guess?"  
"I'd say symptoms will begin to worsen right away," Cooper guessed, "And I believe you will be at your worst in approximately three months."  
"Three months?!" Jackson exclaimed.  
The doctor slowly nodded.  
"Is there any treatment?"  
"Maybe if we had got to it sooner we could have done something," Cooper told him, "But I'm afraid you're too far along. There's nothing we can do. I'm so very sorry."  
Jackson slowly nodded and folded up the sheet of paper and slipped it into the pocket of his trench coat, "Thank you Doctor Cooper."  
He marched out of the office and through the Health Centre until he reached a set of glass doors. He burst through them and felt a rush of cold air on his skin. He shivered. His head was bustling with questions. He felt sick. His diagnosis had knocked the joy of seeing his friends right out of him. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled it open, slotting it between his lips. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a lighter. He clicked it and a flame erupted out, igniting the end of his cigarette. He breathed the nicotine in and groaned. He blew out a gust of smoke and leant against the wall of the Health Centre. He stared at the tarmac beneath his feet. He barely felt awake. He know felt as if he was living a dream. He did not know what to do. Without realising he slipped down the wall into a foetal position and held his head in his hands as he began to weep. He threw his cigarette away in anger and pulled out the sheet of paper with his diagnosis again and read it through, reading every word twice. Anger bubbled through his veins. He tore the paper into a dozen pieces and threw them away from his. He watched as they were picked up by the wind and fluttered through the air. He heard someone sitting on the floor next to him. He looked around. He instantly recognised the woman. Her sweet smelling perfume, her long dark red hair, her beautifully crafted petit features and her most wonderful smile. He was staring into the face of Abi Oakley.  
"Abi?" he whispered in disbelief.  
She had been dead for four years since the Crocodile Island Massacre. The scene still haunted him to that day.

Jackson, Alice and Ollie Stimpson all crawled out a small drainage tunnel into the centre of the forest. Ollie's fiancée Abi had been kidnapped by the killer Sam Plowman and dragged through this very drainage pipe. The three of them all held shotguns tightly in case they ran into the killer. Directly in front of them was a chain link fence. Ollie ran over to it and peered over the other side seeing a deep ravine with a river running through the bottom of it.  
"ABI!" he yelled.  
Jackson opened his mouth to speak, but Ollie stopped him. He concentrated hard, listening to the wind hearing the faintest of traces of speech. His heart raced, "Can you hear that?"  
Alice shook her head.  
"That's Abi" he rejoiced, "ABI!"  
Alice peered over her shoulder and saw Plowman staring at them as he stood behind an ancient oak tree, his knife held in his palm. Alice quickly raised her shotgun and squeezed the trigger. The barrel exploded as it excreted pellets which shot in Plowman's direction, but they all slammed into the tree bark next to him. Plowman smiled before turning and walking away. Alice sprinted after him.  
"Alice wait!" Jackson called.  
She ignored him and continued sprinting. Jackson set off after he before turning back to Ollie, "We'll go after him, you go find Abi. Get her back to the Church!"  
Then he was gone and Ollie was left alone to find his beloved on his own.  
"ABI!" he screamed again.  
"Ollie!" Abi yelled from the distance.  
He sprinted in the direction that her voice holding his shotgun tightly. He followed the sound to an enormous metal bridge which lead over the ravine with chain link fences as barriers on either side and in the middle was a padlocked gate. He dashed out into the centre of the bridge and tried to kick the gate open, but it was too strong.  
"ABI!" he yelled again.  
"OLLIE!" she replied.  
"I hear you!" he exclaimed, "Where are you?!"  
He ran back off the bridge and desperately looked around.  
"I'm in a drain," she screeched, "Hurry!"  
She leapt to her feet and stuck her fingers through the metal grille that trapped her in the small drain. She heard running footsteps from somewhere above her.  
"I can hear you!" she cried.  
Suddenly Ollie came into view above her. She began to sob as he grabbed her fingers with his warm hands, instantly calming her.  
"You found me," she sobbed.  
"Of course I did," he smiled, "Now let's get you out of here."  
He grabbed the metal grille and pulled, but despite its rusted appearance, it was too strong. He looked and saw a thick metal padlock holding it shut. He took up his shotgun and aimed it at the metal.  
"Get back," he warned.  
Abi covered her head as Ollie squeezed the trigger. The pellets smashed into the padlock which exploded into a dozen jagged pieces. Ollie threw the shotgun to the floor and wrenched the grille open. He reached in and offered Abi his hand. She eagerly grabbed it and he heaved her out and pulled her into a tight hug.  
"I thought I was never going to see you again," she muttered.  
He kissed her and smiled, "Will you marry me?"  
"Yes," she cried.  
He kissed her forehead and hugged her again, "I love you."  
Abi slowly looked into the woods and saw Plowman staring at them menacingly, his knife in hand. Abi cried out in terror. Ollie took up his shotgun and aimed it at Plowman and fired, but the pellets whizzed harmlessly past him. He pulled the trigger again, but there was a click. The gun was empty. The hair stood up on the back of Ollie's neck. He turned to Abi, "Run!"  
Ollie grabbed Abi's hand and dragged her onto the bridge. The dashed to the metal gate. Ollie signalled to the chain link barriers, "Climb over!"  
He helped the love of his life to climb over the fence. She stood on the ledge on the other side and slowly edged along. He boot slipped off the metal and she fell toward the water, but Ollie reached out and grabbed her wrist. Abi cried out in fear as she dangled over the ravine. Ollie winced as he heaved her back onto the ledge. He looked back and saw Plowman striding toward them. He turned back to Abi, fear in his eyes. He kissed her, "I love you."  
He grabbed the empty shotgun and turned toward the approaching Plowman.  
"Ollie!" Abi cried, "What are you doing?!"  
"Climb over baby!" he commanded.  
He glared at Plowman and held the shotgun like a club, "COME ON!"  
He rushed forward and swung his weapon toward the killer, but Plowman moved backward out of its path. A smile crept across his face. Ollie gulped and shifted his grip on the shotgun. He swung it toward him again, but Plowman again dodged it, but this time he lashed out with his blade and slashed Ollie across the arm. Ollie stumbled backward as blood seeped from his second wound from the Massacre having been shot in the shoulder by Plowman the night before. Abi's heart stopped as she realised she could only watch as the battle unfolded in front of her eyes. Ollie gritted his teeth together as fury bubbled through his like a virus. He leapt forward and thrust the shotgun down toward Plowman's head, but the killer easily grabbed the makeshift club and wrenched it out of Ollie's grip. He smiled evilly as he tossed the shotgun over the railing. Ollie watched in horror as his only weapon fell into the depths of the ravine. His heart sank, he knew this was it. It was over. Plowman rushed forward and stabbed the knife toward Ollie's heart, but the police officer managed to grab the killer's wrist, but the far superior and uninjured Plowman forced him against the fence.  
"NO!" Abi screamed.  
Plowman used his strength and edged the blade down towards Ollie's skin.  
"No, no, no, no," Ollie pleaded.  
Abi watched in horror as the tip of the blade touched Ollie's skin. Plowman forced it through. Ollie's face contorted with pain. He cried out as the blade cut deeper and deeper into his flesh. His grip weakened and Plowman thrust the knife in all the way to the hilt. Ollie gasped, blood trickled from the side of his mouth. He looked up at his beloved.  
"Abi," he wheezed.  
Her face was the last thing he ever saw. Plowman twisted the blade and there was a sickening crack. Ollie's body went limp and his eyes stared blankly up at the sky. Plowman pulled his blade out and lifted Ollie's body up and tossed his over the side of the bridge. Abi watched as his body twisted through the air as it fell. He then hit the water with a splash and floated on the top of the water, his body deadly still. Tears flooded from Abi's eyes. Ollie had been the love of her life and Plowman had ripped him out of her life. Further up the ravine, Alice sprinted out of the tree lone, not seeing that the ground ended. Jackson leapt forward and grabbed her belt, pulling her back. She breathed a sigh of relief, but then caught a glimpse of the scene unfolding on the bridge. Jackson looked down and saw Ollie's floating corpse. They knew there was nothing they could do, from this distance their guns would be useless. Abi continued to stare down at his body in the water. She knew she would never be happy again, this was it. She knew what she must do. She looked up and saw Plowman glaring at her. He raised his knife and pointed it at her.  
"You can't have me," she whispered emotionlessly.  
She released her grip on the fence. Her body slowly titled backward as she fell from the bridge. Detective Chief Inspector Abigail Oakley fell through the air as if she were in slow motion, her body completely rigid. Alice and Jackson were forced to watch as she cut through the air like a bullet. Alice couldn't watch and buried herself in Jackson's shoulder. Jackson looked back at the bridge and saw Plowman staring at them victoriously. He gave him a lazy salute before turning and marching off the bridge. Jackson and Alice looked down at the water once again and saw Abi's body floating directly beside Ollie's, their hands touching, forever locked by their love. Not even death could separate them.

"Hey Jackson," she smiled.  
Her voice sounded like music to his ears. Her presence alone seemed to warm his heart.  
"You're dead," Jackson grunted through tears, "You're not real."  
"Of course I'm dead," she replied, "But that doesn't mean I'm not real."  
She slowly put her hand over his heart, "I'm in here."  
"I have missed you so much," he sobbed, "I'm sorry that you had to die."  
"Me too," she sighed.  
"I'm scared Abi," he admitted.  
"We all get scared," she told him, "Fear is part of what makes us human. We can't decide our own fate, we can only decide what to do with the time that is given to us."  
"What would you know?" he snapped, "You're just a figment of my imagination!"  
"Yes I am!" she grinned, "But you have people in this world who are real. People who love you very much and would do anything for you. Alice, Kelsey, your son. They're all there for you so don't you ever think that you are on your own."  
Jackson smiled and wiped away his tears and looked at the pieces of paper fluttering in the air.  
"Abi, I-" he began, but when he turned Abi was gone.  
He sighed and slowly pulled himself to his feet. He knew Abi was right, he had people to care about, people to care about him and no illness was going to stop him.

Chapter Five  
Liam, Leah, George, Grace and Alex sat in a café in the centre of Stoke with cold cups of tea sitting in front of them. No one was in the mood to drink, no one was in the mood to speak. They were all in a state of shock. Two of their good friends were dead having been murdered.  
"I can't believe it," Grace whispered.  
Tears began to drip out of her eyes as George put his arm around her shoulder.  
"I saw them last night," he choked, "They were leaving the club."  
"Who could have done this?" Leah shivered as she sobbed.  
Alex put his arm around her lovingly as Liam sat silent, staring at his stone cold cup of tea with no intention of drinking it. He was horrified, who could have done something so terrible? Who could have killed Georgia and Amy, knowing they were two of the nicest girls on the planet. He wiped tears from his face before anyone else noticed and ran his fingers through his hair. He slumped back in his chair, thinking of the last time he would ever see his two friends. He had seen them in the club the night before. He was at the bar and watched as they left together. He went to follow them, but before he could George entered and demanded to talk to him. By the time he went outside, they were gone. Now he would never see them again.  
"Liam?" Leah asked, "Are you alright?"  
He looked up and saw her staring at him anxiously, her eyes red from crying. He nodded, but knew it was a lie.  
"You haven't said anything in an hour," George added, "Are you sure."  
"I need some air," he grunted.  
He leapt out of his chair and marched away from the table, bursting out of the door into the cold December air. He stumbled down the pavement before leaning against the brick wall beside him. He opened his mouth and yelled out with a cry mixed with anger and sorrow. He turned on the spot and punched the brick wall with all his strength. He cried out as he felt a searing pain from his knuckles. He looked down at them and saw that the skin had broken and blood was seeping out. He leant back against the wall again and slid down it into a seated position. He stared forward with blank emotionless eyes at the tarmac road, reminiscing on how he had first met the two of them.

It was a warm August evening in Stoke and the new students were arriving for their first day at University and staying away from home. Students and parents were sobbing in each others arms at the prospect of not seeing each other for months on end. There were hugs and emotional goodbyes as the parents cars drove away into the dying summer sun, leaving their children alone in an unfamiliar city to begin the next chapter of their lives. One such student slowly walked across the grassy verges of the University Campus by himself. Liam Cook had been left by his parents less than an hour beforehand. He had left all his possessions in his room and decided to take a walk in order to come to terms with his new home. He leant against an ancient oak tree and watched the tearful goodbyes of others. His had not been so tearful. He had been looking forward to leaving home for years as he had always enjoyed the prospect of living independently. Even when his mother and father were tearfully saying goodbye to him, Liam only felt one emotion. Excitement. Once his parents had left he knew he was free. Free to do whatever he wanted to. Free to be whoever he wanted to be. Freedom. He loved it. He pulled out a fifty gram pouch of Golden Virginia tobacco from the pocket of his jeans and began to roll himself a cigarette. He popped the end into his mouth and ignited the end with his lighter.  
"Mind if I steal one of those?"  
He looked to his side and saw two good looking young girls walking toward him, one blonde, the other brunette. He nodded and passed them his smoking paraphernalia.  
"Cheers babes."  
"I'm Liam," he smiled.  
"The blonde girl grinned, "Georgia."  
She gestured to her companion, "This is Amy."  
The three of them exchanged awkward glances as they smoked together. Georgia looked up at the student bar ahead of them, "Want to see what that's like?"  
Liam smiled, "You're a student half a day and you already want to get wankered?"  
"Hell yeah," she grinned.  
He nodded, "Sounds pretty good."  
Georgia grinned, "Let's go."  
The three of them set off toward the bar for a night that would set their friendships in stone.

"Liam?"  
He came back to the present, being pulled from his daydream. He looked up and saw Alex stepping out of the café. Liam ignored him and continued to stare into the distance. Alex sat beside him and looked down at his injured hand, "Jeez man! What did you do?"  
Liam continued to ignore him.  
"Listen," Alex told him firmly, "I know we don't like each other. You think I'm not good enough for Leah or whatever, I don't care. You're her best friend. I don't know why she likes you, but she's going to need you so suck it up, stop being a pussy and get back in there and be her friend."  
Liam glared across at him, hatred in his eyes.  
"Do we have an understanding?" he asked.  
Liam slowly nodded, gritting his teeth to stop himself saying something foul that he would later regret. Alex smiled, "Good. Now get your pansy arse back in there."  
He got to his feet and strode back into the café. Liam glared at him as he went, his hatred for him ever growing. But he knew he was right. Leah was his best friend and she needed him. Begrudgingly he got to his feet and followed Alex back into the café.

Officer Matt Harwood stood waiting outside the open door to the hall building turned crime scene. He watched as his fellow officers put of police tape to make sure the eager students could not get any closer. A jet black van crept into the car park. Two men in overalls got out. Harwood recognised them as the coroners. They were there to take away the bodies. They unloaded two trolleys from the back of the van each equipped with a black body bag. And wheeled them into the building. A few minutes later they exited once again, each body bag stuffed to breaking point. It would be the last journey the two young girls saw. Harwood's heart sank. Detective Inspector Lily Taylor exited the building beside him as the coroners loaded the trolleys into the back of their van. Harwood rushed over her, "DI Taylor?"  
She looked around at him expectantly, "Yes?"  
"You said something about the Steyning Massacres," he told her, "And how they were similar to these murders. What did you mean? What were the Steyning Massacres?"  
Taylor sighed and moved forward, putting her hand on his shoulder, "Forget I said anything. I was wrong."  
"But-" he started.  
The Detective gave him a stern look, "You're a good police officer Harwood, but listen to me. Don't waste your time. Concentrate on something more important."  
She gave him a half smile before turning. Harwood watched as she walked away from him. The coroners vans engine sparked into life and pulled out, heading out of the car park. Harwood groaned and headed back to his squad car and climbed into the front seat. He knew that the Steyning Massacres must have had something to do with the deaths of Georgia Evans and Amy Mitchell. Nolan and Taylor were hiding something and he was going to find out what they did not want him to know. He pulled out and sped away from the crime scene.

Chapter Six  
The Land Rover pulled to a halt outside Alice Lidbetter's cottage. Jackson Jones climbed out of the front seat and took a deep breath as he looked up at the front door. He knew Alice and Kelsey were going to quiz him about where he had gone and what was happening. Eventually he would have to tell them about his illness, but now was not the time. It could wait. His thought kept thinking back to Abi. He knew she was only a figment of his imagination, but she was right. He loved Alice and Kelsey and needed to be there for them. He moved over to the oak front door and pushed it open. He strode through the cottage and heard voices coming from the kitchen. He entered and saw Alice and Kelsey sitting at the breakfast bar, gingerly sipping steaming hot cups of tea. They looked up at him shocked, "You're back?!"  
Jackson frowned at them, confused, "Why is that a shock?"  
He then saw someone out of the corner of his eyes. He slowly turned and saw a beautiful woman sheepishly smiling at him. Megan Lodge, his ex-wife was standing by the AGA.  
"Hey," she timidly greeted.  
He did not reply. He was too shocked to speak. He hadn't seen her since before the Crocodile Island Massacre when he punched her then boyfriend Rob Miles in the face.  
"We'll give you two some space," Alice said.  
She and Kelsey abandoned their drinks on the breakfast bar before slipping out of the kitchen as if they were never there.  
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.  
"I've been trying to contact you for years," Megan told him, "I'm sorry."  
"Where's Rob?"  
"I kicked him out," Megan told him, "I realised I didn't love him. I was still in love with my husband."  
"What do you want from me Megan?"  
"I want you back," she confessed, her eyes streaming with tears.  
"You left me," he snarled, "When I needed you the most! You just left!"  
She slowly moved forward, "I promise I'll never leave again. I promise."  
Jackson sighed, staring down at the floor.  
"Do you not love me anymore?"  
"Of could I do!" he exclaimed, "I will never stop loving you!"  
"Then why can't we make this work?"  
"You betrayed me!" he yelled, "How can I ever trust you again?!"  
"I know I was wrong," she pleaded, "But I know what I want now. I have regretted that decision for the past four years! I should have been there for you. I'm sorry."  
She placed her warm hand on his cheek. He groaned and brushed her away, "You should go."  
"What does this mean?"  
He wiped tears away from his cheeks as he stood before her, "I'm sorry Megan."  
"I love you Jack," she pleaded, "Please take me back."  
"I can't."  
"Why?"  
"Because every time I look at you I feel the pain you caused me," he growled, "The betrayal of you leaving when I needed you."  
"What about our son?"  
"He'll be looked after," Jackson told her, "If it weren't for him I'd never want to see you again."  
Megan slowly nodded and wiped her face clean, "Message understood. Goodbye Jack."  
She leant in and kissed him on the cheek. They gazed into each other's eyes for a split second before she moved away from him, heading toward the door.. He heard the front door slamming shut and he knew his ex-wife was gone. He leant against the breakfast bar and groaned, clamping his yes tightly shut. He had been dreaming for Megan's return ever since they had first separated, but upon seeing her again, the anger resurfaced. It was the anger he had felt when she first left him. It bubbled and boiled just as it had years before. It had now absorbed his remaining love for her and turned it into a rotten, decrepit ruin of what it once was.  
"Jackson?"  
He looked up and saw Alice and Kelsey standing in the doorway staring at him sympathetically.  
"Are you okay?" Alice asked.  
"She wanted me back," he explained, "But I said no."  
They stood by his shoulders and began massaging him lovingly.  
"I'm so sorry," Alice whispered.  
Jackson shook his head, "It's a good thing. At least I can finally move on."  
"Are you sure?" Kelsey asked.  
He nodded, "At least I know that there's no chance of us getting back together so I can finally let go."  
"I'm glad you're okay," Kelsey smiled.  
"I'll be right back," Alice announced.  
She quickly rushed out of the kitchen and through the house toward the front door. She burst though it into the cold morning air. She saw Megan a few feet ahead of her, striding away from the house. Alice sprinted after her, knowing what she had to do for her best friend. She grabbed Megan's shoulder. The distraught woman spun around in shock and looked at Alice, "What is it?"  
"I know Jackson said he's fine with it," Alice explained, "But he isn't Megan. It's killing him, he's just too polite to say. So as his best friend I have to tell you something that he never would."  
Megan stared at Alice expectantly believing Alice to beg her to keep trying to get back together with him.  
"You have to stay away from him," Alice told her.  
"What?" Megan exclaimed.  
"This is killing him," Alice explained, "And seeing you is just going to make it worse so for his sake, please stay away."  
Tears began to trickle from Megan's eyes again as she hugged Alice, "Take care of him."  
Alice watched as Megan turned again and began to walk away from the house. She knew that Jackson would be furious with her if he knew what she had just done, but she also knew that she had done the right thing and in the long run, he would thank him. Without the hope of fixing his marriage with Megan, he could truly move on and begin to forget the horrors of his past. She slowly turned and saw Jackson towering in front of her, staring at her. Alice jumped in shock and assumed she was about to be shouted at.  
"Jackson I'm so sorry-" she began.  
He interrupted by pulling her into a tight hug.  
"Thank you," he whispered in her ear.  
"You're not mad at me?" she asked bemused.  
He grinned, "Of course not. You're protecting me, as always.  
"I'm really glad you're back," she smiled, hugging him again.

Chapter Seven  
Liam sat on his bed, he was completely in shock and silent. He was not moving whatsoever, his eyes fixed on his carpeted floor. He and his friends had left the café and decided to go back to their rooms for some time alone. Liam did not want to be alone, he wanted to be with his friends, but he did not want to talk. He just wanted to sit with the people he cared for most in the world, but he knew they would ask him about his feelings and ask if he were okay. He could tell that they were just trying to help, but what emotion could he be feeling besides sorrow? Of course he would not be okay and besides he was someone who bottled up their emotions and decided to keep his feelings to himself and try to solve his own problems. He looked down at his cracked knuckles. He had wiped the blood away, but they were red and very sore. He leant over to his wardrobe and pulled open one of the many drawers. He reached in and pulled out a pair of white ankle socks and unravelled them. He tightly wrapped half of the pair around his hand, covering up his wound. He sat back and looked at his handiwork. At least they wouldn't get infected. He realised he didn't want to be alone anymore. He got to his feet and strode to the door. He grasped the handle and pulled it open, but found himself looking into Leah's distraught face. She smiled at him sheepishly, "Do you mind hanging out?"  
"Where's Alex?" he asked.  
"He's gone," she sniffed, "He said he needed time alone."  
She slowly began to shake and Liam saw tears forming in her eyes. He hugged her, cradling her head and slowly rubbing her comfortingly.  
"It's alright," he whispered warmly, "I'm here for you."  
"Thank you," she smiled, "You're going to make a man very happy someday."  
"What?" Liam asked with a shocked expression.  
"You're going to make a man very happy someday," she repeated.  
"No I heard you," he said, "But what?!"  
"I was just saying-"  
"You think I'm gay?"  
"You're not?!" Leah gasped.  
"No!" Liam exclaimed, "I am definitely not gay!"  
Leah blushed, "Oh."  
"Does anyone else think I'm gay?"  
"A few people," she murmured.  
"Who?!" he demanded.  
"Everyone," Leah stuttered.  
"Everyone thinks I'm gay?!" Liam groaned, "Why do they think that?"  
"I may have told them you were gay," Leah whispered.  
"Why would you do that?"  
"I just assumed you were!" she blushed.  
He groaned, "Well that's just great. But now it makes sense why George tried to set me up with his brother."  
Leah tried to change the subject, "Can we go outside? I need a cigarette."  
"You don't smoke," he told her.  
"I do today."

A few moments later the two of them stepped out of their hall building and into the courtyard. A wave of cold December air rushed over them as soon as they moved outside. Liam quickly produced a cigarette for Leah before rolling on for himself. The two of them simultaneously lit the ends of their cigarettes and began smoking as they stood in silence.  
"It's surreal," Leah muttered, "Knowing I'll never see Georgia or Amy again."  
"I know," he replied, "It's going to be tough to live with."  
"How are you doing?" she asked.  
"about as good as I can be right now," he grunted.  
She nodded, realising that her companion was not in the mood for talking.  
"Hey guys," a grim voice greeted from behind them.  
Liam and Leah turned and saw three of their friends stepping out of the hall building. Dylan Jones, Harry Bushby and Matt Lewer were the stereotypical University stoners. All they ever seemed to talk about was their beloved Marijuana which annoyed the rest of the group to breaking point. They were up for the occasional spliff, but there were bigger things in life than weed. It was a wonder they were accepted into University whatsoever. Liam and Leah gave courteous nods as they approached.  
"Did you hear?" Harry asked with a solemn expression.  
They nodded.  
"It's awful," Matt sighed, "They were two of the nicest people I knew."  
"Where are you three off to?" Liam asked.  
"Apparently the police are going to start searching rooms," Dylan explained, "And we got a shit load of weed we need to get rid of."  
He pulled out an enormous plastic bag full of shredded Cannabis out of his jacket pocket.  
"We're going to get well high," Matt told them, "For Georgia and Amy."  
"Want to come?" Harry asked.  
Liam shook his head, "Not this time bro."  
"Whatever," Dylan shrugged, "In a bit dude."  
The trio set off and walked into the distance toward the area in which they always smoked.  
"Did you hear that?" Leash asked, "They're searching rooms. Do they think it's a student?"  
"I don't know," Liam murmured, "But if it helps catch this guy then they can do whatever the hell they like in my room."

Officer Matt Harwood burst back into the police station and rushed over to his desk, typing in his username and password into his computer terminal o log onto the police database system. Nolan and Taylor did not want him to know about the Steyning Massacres so that would be exactly what he researched. He typed the word Steyning into the database and waited as pages of results were shown to him. The top result was dated from the summer of 2011. He clicked on it and began reading. That summer, two students Sally Cattani and Sam Maclintock began murdering their friends in the style of Wes Craven's Scream film series. In total they murdered twelve people before finally being killed themselves. Harwood's eyes widened with shock as he read the grizzly details of all the murders. At the foot of the article there was a hyperlink that lead to another article that was dated exactly one year later. Harwood clicked on it and began reading, discovering that twelve months later the survivors of the first massacre were haunted by a new series of killings. The young police officer was horrified as he read. He found yet another hyperlink and read about the third and forth massacres in terror. He pleaded with the world for that to be it, but then he found links to two other massacres, the BHASVIC Massacre and the Crocodile Island Massacre. Harwood felt slightly sick as he read about the sixth and final massacre. He was disgusted that people could do such terrible things. Whilst dwelling on it, he thought of several great similarities between the Steyning Massacre and the double killing in Stoke the night before. He looked at the names of the survivors of the final Massacre. Alice Lidbetter, Jackson Jones and Doctor Kelsey Welch. Harwood knew they needed help from experts and there was no one with more expertise on the subject than the three people whose names were listed on the screen before him. Harwood urgently reached for his desk phone.

Alice, Jackson and Kelsey all gathered in the kitchen of Alice's humble cottage happily drinking tea and catching up. Suddenly Jackson's phone began to ring. He pulled the Smartphone out of the pocket of his jeans and looked down at the caller ID, but did not recognise the number. He frowned.  
"Who is it?" Alice asked.

"I don't know," he muttered.  
He answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear, "Hello?"  
"Jackson Jones?" the caller demanded frantically.  
"My name is Matt Harwood, I'm a police officer and I really need your help."

Chapter Eight  
Jackson leant on the breakfast bar as Alice and Kelsey looked at him in shock. Officer Harwood has informed him of the situation and he in turn had told the others.  
"Oh my God," Alice whispered, "I can't believe its happening again."  
"I thought this was over," Kelsey groaned, "I thought everyone had moved past this. Nobody even remembers what happened anymore."  
Alice looked across at Jackson and saw his stern expression. It was an expression she knew all too well.  
"You're thinking of going up there aren't you?"  
He sighed, "I have to."  
"No you don't!" she exclaimed, "This has nothing to do with us! It's happening in Stoke which is like two hundred miles away!"  
"But we know about this stuff!" Jackson protested, "Wouldn't you have given anything for people like us when this first happened to us? Someone who could help?"  
"But we didn't!" Alice yelled, "And we still survived!"  
"Yeah but look at who we lost!" he cried, "Abi, Ollie, Kim, Plowman, Emily! They could have all been alive if we had help!"  
"I can't believe you're actually considering this! Look at what its done to us! Our lives are ruined! We've all nearly been killed! You've got dozens of scars on your chest!"  
"I'm sorry Alice," he groaned, "I have to go. If these kids die and I do nothing when I know I could have helped what kind of man does that make me?"  
"You promised me!" she screamed, "You promised that you would never leave me again!"  
He smiled and put his hand around her shoulder, "I always come back, it's me remember."  
"But what if you don't?"  
"I will," he promised reassuringly.  
He hugged her as she began to sob.  
"Please don't go," she cried.  
"I have to."  
"No you don't!"  
"I'm sorry Alice, but I do."  
"I'm coming with you," Kelsey announced.  
"No," Jackson told her sternly, "Stay here with Alice."  
"As if!" Kelsey told him, "You're old and slow, you're going to need someone to watch your back."  
"Is there anyway I can convince you not to come?"  
Kelsey crossed her arms, "Nope. If you go, I go."  
Jackson turned back to Alice, but found her facing away from him. It was obvious that she was still crying. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.  
"Alice please," she muttered.  
She continued to ignore him.  
"Fine," he grunted, "I'll see you later."  
He marched out of the kitchen closely followed by Kelsey. Alice slowly turned as she heard the front door slam shut. She wiped the stream of tears from her face and slowly walked toward the front of the house. She stared out of the double glazed living room window and saw her two best friends heading for Kelsey's Land Rover. Kelsey turned to Jackson.  
"Do you really think this is a good idea?"  
"Probably not," he replied.  
"Do you think we're going to get out of this alive?"  
"Who knows."  
"You've survived this six times," she told him, "That's got to count for something."  
"Let's hope so," he replied.  
She held out her hand, "Give me the keys."  
"As if," he smiled, "With your driving we wont even make it to Stoke!"  
She chuckled as they climbed into her vehicle. Jackson slotted the key into the ignition and twisted it. The engine burst into life. He slowly backed away from the cottage as Alice watched them. She had a terrible feeling that she was never going to see them again. The Land Rover accelerated away down Mouse Lane and Alice was left on her own again.

Only half an hour of their two hour journey had passed before they were stuck in heavy traffic on a motorway. Jackson groaned and leant his head against the window.  
"I hate traffic," he mumbled.  
"Doesn't everyone?" Kelsey replied, "I can't believe this. A few hours ago I was getting my make up done for a TV show and now I'm driving up to Stoke with you to solve murders."  
"Just like old times huh?" he smiled.  
Kelsey looked across at him, "Can I ask you a question?"  
"I sense you're going to whether I give you permission to or not," he replied.  
"Do you ever think about him?" Kelsey asked.  
"Who?"  
"Plowman."  
He nodded, "All the time."  
"Even after everything he did?"  
"We all saw enough shit to send anyone crazy," he explained, "But at first it was all aimed at Plowman. His girlfriend tried to kill him, his sister tried to kill him. It was enough to push anyone over the edge. Unfortunately he couldn't deal with it as well as the rest of us could."  
"Do you ever think about anyone else?"  
"Everyone," he nodded, "I think about everyone I've lost. All the time."  
Kelsey nodded and leant against the window, "So where did you go earlier?"  
"Are you going to ask questions this whole trip?"  
"You know me," she grinned, "I love a good chat."  
"I told you," Jackson shrugged, "I went to the dentist."  
"Don't pull that bullshit on me. You can't lie to me," she told him, "Alice may believe you but I don't. So where did you go?"  
He sighed, "Alright, but you have to promise not to tell Alice."  
She nodded, "I promise."  
"I went to see my old doctor in Steyning," he explained, "My doctor back in LA sent him the results of some tests I had taken."  
"What were the results?"  
"I don't really want to talk about it Kels," he stuttered.  
"Well I'm your best friend and I think I deserve to know!" she said with worry in her voice.  
He groaned, "Fine! He said I have dementia!"  
"Dementia?!" Kelsey exclaimed, "You're only forty!"  
"I know," he sighed, "But that's what I have. And it's a very aggressive form. Within a couple of months I'll barely have a grasp on reality. I won't be anything like the man I am now."  
Kelsey collapsed back into her seat, her skin white with shock. He looked across at her, "I'm sorry. I wasn't going to tell anyone until I had to."  
He paused, "Are you alright?"  
Kelsey gulped, "You're going to die."  
"What?"  
"That's the reason you want to help these kids so bad," Kelsey told him, "You're going up here to die. It's got nothing to do with these kids!"  
"How can you say that?!"  
"Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong!"  
He sighed and looked down at the steering wheel.  
"It's true!" Kelsey groaned, "Oh my God it's true!"  
"So what if it's true!" Jackson yelled, "My life is over! What is there to stay for! All my friends are dead! In a few months time I'm going to be stuck in bed, terrified of everything I see. I won't even know my own name!"  
"No Jack! Not all of your friends are dead!" Kelsey yelled back at him, "But you obviously can't see that! Me and Alice both love you. We'd be devastated if we lost you! And so would your son!"  
"It would save me years of pain!"  
"It's the cowards way out!" she screeched, "I have lost too many people, there's no way I'm losing you too!"  
She slumped back in her seat, her cheeks red with fury. The traffic ahead of them began moving.  
"Shall I turn back?"  
"No," she grunted, "You're right. These kids need help. So they don't have to suffer like we did. But I am as sure as hell keeping you alive!"  
A small smiled crept across his lips, "I've missed you Kels."  
"Yeah well now I'm back and I'm not bloody letting you go!"  
Jackson accelerated down the motorway, "Let's go catch a killer."

Chapter Nine  
Hours seemed to pass as if they were seconds for Liam and Leah as they sat in silence in her room. They had finished their cigarettes and migrated back into the warmth where they had been sitting for hours. They did not need to say anything, just being in each others company helped to ratify the feeling of emptiness that they were both feeling after the loss of their friends. Liam slowly looked across at his motionless companion. He know knew that life was short and he wanted nothing more than to be able to tell Leah how he really felt about her. He opened his mouth to speak, but a loud knock at the door interrupted him. He quickly closed his mouth again as Leah got to her feet and moved toward the door, twisting the handle and pulling it open revealing Alex standing in the doorway. He pulled his girlfriend into a passionate kiss as Liam looked on in disgust. Alex rested Leah's head on his strong chest and slowly ran his fingers through her hair.  
"Are you alright?" he asked sympathetically?  
She nodded, but he knew she was lying.  
"I know what'll make you feel better," he smiled, "The Blowout is still on."  
"You're still going to that thing?!" Liam exclaimed, "Georgia and Amy just died!"  
Alex glared across at him before gesturing to the door.  
"Would you mind giving me some alone time with my girlfriend gay boy?" he grunted through gritted teeth.  
Liam stared at his enemy before looking at Leah, whose head still rested on Alex's chest, she was not even protesting. He knew he could not say anything without hurting Leah's feelings so he got to his feet and slowly marched out of Leah's room.  
"Cheers mate," Alex mocked with a sickly sweet tone.  
He slammed the door in Liam's face. He clenched his fists, his blood boiling with anger. The only thing he wanted to do was knock the door down and beat Alex to a pulp, but he could not. Leah cared about him, which meant Liam had to care about him, not matter how much he loathed the "blond bastard".  
"Liam!" a voice yelled from down the corridor.  
The young man turned to see George sprinting toward him.  
"Alright man," Liam greeted with a half smile.  
"So my block is still an official crime scene," he muttered, "So I was wondering if I could hang with you for a few hours?"  
Liam pulled his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and tossed them to George, "Knock yourself out dude."  
He turned and began marching away down the corridor.  
"Where the hell you going?" George called.  
"I have something I have to do," Liam told him, "I won't be long."  
George watched him as he walked away, he knew something was wrong. He shrugged and moved toward Liam's door. Liam strode straight out of the building and onto the lawns. He had already made his mind up. He was going to join Dylan, Matt and Harry in their mission to dispose of all their Cannabis. He may not be able to talk about his feelings to anyone, but he could certainly smoke enough weed to make him forget them. He marched through the grounds, not paying attention to those he passed, know the exact spot of their "drug zone" . There were two types of accommodation available for students on campus. There were the ones with shared toilets and more expensive rooms with en suite bathrooms. The separate groups of buildings were separated by a capillary of the River Trent and the only way across was over a small wooden bridge. His three friends had told him they often sat on the bank beneath the bridge where no one could possibly discover their participation in illegal activities. Liam reached the edge of the stream and peered at the bank under the bridge. Sure enough the three of them were sitting on the cold grass smoking rolled Marijuana cigarettes. Liam moved toward them, but stopped a few feet away. He groaned, realising that he made a mistake. He didn't like getting high and didn't see any point of getting high now just to ease his pain. He turned on the spot and walked away from the bridge. There was no need for the Marijuana to help with his grief after he finally realised that he needed to talk about his problems.

Tom Hughes sat behind his desk in his small, cramped office on campus wearily typing on his laptop. The forty three year old man did not usually come into work on a Saturday, but he had a great deal of marking that needed to be done by the beginning of the week so he thought it best to get it all out of the way rather than leave it any longer. He was a lecturer of Psychology at Staffordshire University and had just heard the tragic news of the deaths of two students who had been murdered on campus. He did not know either of the girls as they were not in any of his classes, but it was still horrific nevertheless. He stopped typing and leant forward, rubbing his tired eyes. There was a quiet knocking at the door.  
"Come in," he called.  
There was a creak as the door opened. Liam peered inside, "Can I have a word?"  
"Mister Cook," Tom greeted, "Have a seat."  
Liam crept inside, shutting the door behind him before sitting on an uncomfortable desk chair opposite his tutor.  
"What can I do for you?"  
"Did you hear about Georgia and Amy?"  
Tom slowly nodded, "I did indeed."  
The young man shivered. He knew that he could talk to Tom as he was his tutor and wouldn't judge him for whatever he had to say., he would only listen.  
"I don't know what to do," Liam sniffed, "Georgia and Amy were two of my best friends. How am I going to cope without them?"  
Tom leaned forward, "Can I tell you a secret?"  
Liam slowly nodded. The tutor got to his feet and moved over to the metal filing cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled open a drawer. He reached inside and pulled out a half empty bottle of aged Scotch whisky and two disposable glasses. He leant back against the desk and pulled the cork from the neck of the bottle with a satisfying pop. He tilted the bottle and poured some of the liquid into each of the cups before setting the bottle down on the desk. He passed on of the cups to Liam before taking a sip of his own. He let out a long, loving sigh. Liam looked up at him confused, "So what's the secret."  
Tom smiled down at him and slowly leant forward close to Liam's ear and began to whisper, "I keep whisky in the filing cabinet."  
Liam forced a smile before lifting the cup to his lips. He gently sipped at the amber liquid and let it trickle down his throat, leaving the trademark whisky burn. He coughed and set the cup down on the desk in front of his before looking back at his tutor. Liam had never realised just how creepy Tom was before, his eyes were small and always observant, nothing could ever get past him. His lips were thin and twisted into a smile.  
"What if I told you losing people was just a part of life?" Tom asked, "We may think that if we lost someone in these circumstances that it is wrong, but it isn't. We're all part of a circle, the circle that links us all together. Murder is just another one of the things in the circle. It is inevitable."  
Liam looked up at him, already regretting entering the office.  
"You know what I've learnt from teaching?" Tom asked.  
"What?" Liam shuddered.  
"That the question is not "Why did this happen?", but more like who's next?"  
Liam stared at him in shock, "What do you mean?"  
"These things never end this early," Tom smiled menacingly, "I remember doing my dissertation on the Steyning Massacres, have you heard of them?"  
Liam shook his head.  
Tom grinned, "You really should, seeing as you seem to be in it."  
"What the hell are you on about?" Liam demanded.  
"You'll see," Tom chuckled, "When the killer's blade is sticking out of your chest."  
"That's not funny!"  
"The killer's close to you Liam," the teacher told him with a grin, "So my last question for you is, who is it?"  
"I have to go," Liam announced, his voice shaky.  
He leapt to his feet and wrenched the office door open and disappearing out into the corridor. Tom lifted the cup to his lips and drained the remainder of the whisky inside it. He began to chuckle as if he were a villain in a 1980s Bond film. Liam rushed down the corridors of the University. His mind was swimming with the thoughts that Tom had just poured into his head. Was he right? What if the killings weren't over? What if the killer was someone he knew? Liam could barely think straight, he could barely walk straight. He burst out of the glass doors into the dying light of the University courtyard. He stood deadly still, letting the cold wind chill him to the bone. He had no idea what to do, or where to go next. Could he trust his friends or was Tom just making that stuff up for some sort of sick joke? He pulled his pouch of tobacco out of the pocket of his jeans and desperately needing nicotine to calm his nerves, began rolling himself a cigarette. The pouch slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. His hand-eye co-ordination had deteriorated since visiting Tom. He was absolutely terrified by what his tutor had said to him. His forehead was covered in cold sweat. He tried to work out in his head which of his friends could be a killer. Leah? He shook his head, Leah was his best friend. She did not have a bad bone in her body and would be unable to hurt anybody. George? Liam at first thought there was no chance George could be the killer, but then he realised that he knew nothing of George's past. He knew he had a bit of an anger management problem, but he did not think he could be a killer. Then his thoughts fell to Grace, but he quickly brushed away those thoughts. Grace, like Leah was one of the kindest people he had ever met who could never hurt anyone. Then he thought about Alex. Liam and Alex had never got on, but he knew Leah's boyfriend was aggressive and had a very short temper. Alex could very well be the killer. Liam knelt down to pick up his pouch of tobacco.  
"Liam?" a soft voice called, "Are you okay?"  
He looked up and saw Grace making her way through the darkness toward him.  
"Yeah I'm fine," he lied, "What are you doing out here?"  
"George called me," she explained, "He's worried about you so sent me out to make sure you're okay."  
"I'm fine," he grunted, "You don't have to worry about me."  
He turned away and began to walk away from her.  
"No you're not," she told him, "I can see it in your eyes."  
He slowly turned and looked back at her, "Excuse me?"  
"You're eyes give it away."  
"How do you expect me to be feeling?!" he snapped.  
She looked at him as her eyes began to drip with tears, "Fine."  
She turned and began to storm away. Liam groaned and ran forward, grabbing her shoulder, "Grace wait."  
She turned and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, "I'm sorry. This is just majorly stressing me out."  
"We're all stressed Liam," she sniffed, "You don't have to take it out on me."  
He slowly rubbed her back and tightly closed his eyes. He just wanted to go to bed and forget the last twenty four hours of his life.

Chapter Ten  
Jackson pulled the handbrake on the Land Rover in the cap park of the Stoke City police station. He had been driving for hours and finally reached his destination as night started to fall. He and Kelsey clambered out of the vehicle and slammed the car doors behind them. Jackson locked the Land Rover and the two of them marched toward the station entrance, ignoring the freezing cold air around them. They strode through the set of glass doors into the grey, unfriendly reception where an overweight, middle aged police officer was sitting behind a desk, looking incredibly bored. The two newcomers marched over to her.  
"We're here to see Officer Harwood," Jackson announced.  
"Who are you?" the woman grunted, without looking up from her newspaper.  
"He's expecting us," he told her.  
"I have to know your name," the woman yawned.  
"It's alright Belinda," a man's voice said, "They're with me."  
Jackson and Kelsey looked to their left and saw Officer Matt Harwood appearing in a doorway. He smiled, "Mister Jones, Doctor Welch? Thank you for coming. Follow me."  
Harwood turned and began leading them down the corridor. Jackson turned back to the receptionist.  
"Thanks for you help," he muttered sarcastically.  
She glared up at him and stuck up her middle finger. Jackson smiled to himself and he and Kelsey began following the police officer toward his desk.  
"So what's going on Officer?" Jackson asked.  
Harwood slowly sat in his desk chair and winced, "Two girls were murdered last night. I think someone is copying what happened to you two."  
"Well we can help," Kelsey told him.  
"We may have a bit of a problem with that," Harwood groaned, looking behind them.  
The door on the other side of the room burst open and Detective Chief Inspector Phillip Nolan exploded out like a raging bull.  
"HARWOOD!" he boomed, "What the hell is going on?!"  
"That's the problem," the young officer muttered, "DCI Nolan, this is-"  
"I know who they bloody well are!" Nolan screeched, "What are they doing here?"  
"I thought they could help," Harwood whispered.  
Nolan's nostrils flared as he looked at his employee with a gaze of hate, "You have well and truly over stepped the mark boy. Go home."  
"But sir-" he protested.  
"GO HOME!"  
Harwood gritted his teeth, trying to not say something he would later regret. He leapt to his feet and wrenched his jacket off the back of his chair and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Nolan fixed his eyes on Jackson and Kelsey. He moved forward aggressively, "I don't know what you're doing here, I don't know what you hope to achieve, but this is my city and I'm in charge!"  
Jackson squared up to him, "Listen to me!"  
He gestured to Kelsey, "We are the experts on this. You are not. I've lived through this six times so I think I'm more qualified to deal with the situation than you."  
"GHOSTFACE IS NOT BACK!" Nolan screamed at him, saliva erupting from his lips.  
"Stop being a stupid cunt and see the bigger picture dickhead!" Jackson snarled.  
As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake.

Mere moments later Nolan slammed the heavy metal door to one of the station's cells shut, locking Jackson and Kelsey inside.  
"Damn," Jackson grunted, "That usually works."  
Kelsey sat on the small, uncomfortable bed in the corner of the room, "What do we do now?"  
"Well hopefully Harwood was wrong," Jackson replied, "Hopefully this isn't what we think it is."  
"What if it is?"  
"Then we have to wait," he shrugged, "They'll have to see sense."  
He leant back against the cold concrete wall, "Maybe coming here was a mistake."  
Kelsey looked up at him and shook her head, "Trust me, it's not a mistake. We're doing the right thing."

Chapter Eleven  
Matt Lewer slotted his key into the lock on the front door of his house and twisted it and pushed the door open. Unlike most students in their first year, Matt, Dylan and Harry did not go into halls, but began sharing a house together. It was small, nothing to boast about, but the three of them all preferred it to halls. He stepped in out of the cold and pushed the door shut. He shivered. The temperature outside was bone chilling, but before he left, he had put the heating on so the inside of the house was baking. He had left Dylan and Harry by the river to finish their Marijuana. He wanted to have something to eat and have a shower before the three of them went to the Blowout that evening. He reached through the darkness for a light switch and flicked it. The light bulb above him burst into life and filled the hallway with artificial rays of light. He slipped off his shoes and kicked them away before stretching his socked feet on the thick woollen carpet. He pulled off his thick winter jacket and threw it onto one of the cream moth eaten sofas as he walked into the living room. He grabbed a remote control which was lying on a glass coffee table and pointed it at the plasma television mounted on the wall. He turned it off standby and it flashed onto his favourite music channel. He smiled as heavy rock music began blaring out of the set and filled the room. He tossed the remote down onto the sofa and strode into the kitchen, turning the lights on. He went over to the miniscule fridge and pulled it open, peering inside. He sighed as he saw nothing that he wanted on his designated shelf, but then he saw it. Beneath his shelf he saw the most beautiful sight he could have ever imagined. A packet of thickly sliced smoked back bacon. He started to salivate. He eagerly grasped the plastic packet and pulled it out of the fridge. His heart sank as he saw a yellow note attached to the top, it read:

"Harry's bacon! Touch it you die!"

Matt slyly peeled the note off the packet's cellophane casing and screwed it up, dropping it to the floor. He chuckled to himself before creeping over to the breakfast bar. He set the packet down, ripping the top of it. He knelt down and opened a cabinet, pulling out a frying pan. He set it down on the hob and turned the gas on, igniting it with his lighter. He lifted four rashers of bacon from the packet and slapped them down onto the heated metal and heard the sizzle of pork fat as the house was immediately filled with the smell of miraculously delicious meat. He smiled as he watched the rashers cook. He produced two slices of bread from a loaf on the counter and quickly spread butter across them. He turned off the hob, seeing that the bacon was well and truly cooked being slightly crispy, just how he liked it. He tipped the pan over the bread and the rashers tumbled onto their carbohydrate bed. He reached into another cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Heinz Tomato Ketchup and smothered the bacon in the red liquid. He pressed the two slices of bread together and licking his lips he looked down at his handiwork. He pulled out a plate and placed the sandwich upon it and let the fumes waft up his nose. He lifted the sandwich to his lips, but stopped. The back door was wide open and cold air was streaming into the house. He strode forward and slammed the door shut. He could have sworn the door was not open when he came in. He shrugged and picked up his plate again. He marched back through the living room and began ascending the staircase to his bedroom. He switched the light on and sat behind his desk. Much like the rooms in halls, it wasn't very big, having just enough room for a bed, a desk and a wardrobe. He looked at his laptop which to his surprise was open and left on. He was sure he had switched it off before he left. He shrugged once again and opened his internet browser and went straight onto the worldwide streaming website Youtube where he always watched fail compilation videos which collected an assortment of viral videos of people doing ridiculously stupid things. He loved these kind of videos and spent much of his spare time watching them. He picked up the sandwich and lifted it to his lips and took an almighty bite, almost devouring half of it in one. He chewed, the flavour of the bacon and ketchup mixing together in his mouth making him smile. He clicked on a video and began to watch. Within a few minutes he had completely finished the bacon sandwich. He set the plate down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen. As he clip ended he grasped the top of his laptop and closed it. He yawned. He knew he was tired, but he had to go to the Blowout, everyone would be there. It was billed as the best night of the year by many students in years above him. He simply could not miss it. He picked up the plate and walked out of his room to wash up his dishes before he went for a shower. His mobile phone began ringing in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled it down and looked at the Caller ID, but it was a restricted number. Matt answered it and pressed it to his ear and he moved down the stairs, "Hello?"  
"hello," the caller relied bluntly.  
"Who is this?" Matt asked.  
"who is this?" the caller replied.  
"You called me," Matt told him, his patience wearing thin.  
"Did I?"  
He sighed, "Look, tell me who you are or I'll hang up."  
"Do you want to die tonight Matty?" the killer asked.  
The hair on Matt's arms stood up on end, "This isn't funny!"  
"Who said it was a joke?" the killer asked menacingly, "You forgot to lock the back door."  
Matt scoffed, "Yeah right, because you're right outside."  
Matt set his plate down in the sink as he stepped into the kitchen. He looked at the back door, "Prove it then."  
"Okay," the killer snarled.  
A hand grabbed Matt by the shoulder. He cried out in shock, the phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor. He span around to face his assailant, but instead saw Harry Bushby glaring at him.  
"You cunt," Harry growled, "You ate my bacon!"  
Matt panted, but then smiled as he realised his stupidity, "Sorry."  
"what are you so worked up about?" Harry asked.  
"Nothing," he smiled, "I'm just being stupid. Where's Dyl?"  
"He's still by the bridge," Harry told him, "I just came back to get my coat and then we're heading to the Blowout, you coming?"  
Matt shook his head, "I'm going to have a shower first dude. I'll meet you there."  
Harry nodded, "Alright. You're buying me more bacon by the way."  
Matt grinned and winked, "Of course I am. Get the drinks in mate."  
Harry turned and marched back through the house. Matt heard the front door slam as Harry left. He looked down at his phone on the floor and groaned as he picked it up, the screen was cracked. He swore under his breath and set it down on the breakfast bar. He did not have enough money to get it repaired. He knew this sort of thing would happen. Throughout his two years at college, Matt kept breaking his phones and had to revert to using a Nokia brick. His battered phone began to ring again. He thoughtlessly picked it up and answered it.  
"Yeah?" he greeted.  
"Hello again Matt," the killer growled.  
Matt groaned, "Oh just fuck off!"  
"Have you ever felt a cold blade slicing through your skin?"  
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Matt demanded.  
"I just want to know who can take more pain," the killer told him, "You, or your friend Georgia."  
"Fuck this."  
He was ready to hang up.  
"If you hang up on me it'll be the last mistake you ever make!"  
"As if," Matt smiled.  
He hung up and slammed the phone down onto the breakfast bar, breaking it further. Suddenly a closet door burst open behind him and the killer leapt out, dressed in his infamous black robes wearing the trademark Ghostface mask and holding a glistening knife in his gloved hand. Matt spun around in shock. The killer sprinted at him, but the student grasped the cooling frying pan on the hob and swung it through the air toward the killer. The metal slammed into the side of his head and sent him flying to the side, clattering to the floor. Matt sprinted past him through the lounge toward the front door. He grasped the handle and twisted it, but heard the killer's pounding footsteps directly behind him. Matt ducked just as the killer thrust his blade toward Matt's head. The knife stabbed into the door, embedding itself in the wood. Matt turned and dashed up the stairs, but the killer grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him to the floor. Matt lashed out with his foot and felt it collide with something as the killer's grip released. Matt pulled himself to his feet and continued up the staircase, but he suddenly felt a searing pain in his lower back. He cried out and slowly peered over his shoulder. His body was filled with horror as he felt the killer's blade embedded in his lower back. He cried out again and felt blood trickling out of his wound. He tried to keep going, but he could not. He fell face first onto the carpeted landing. His vision began to blur as he felt blood gushing out and onto the carpet. The killer slowly climbed the staircase and looked down at Matt as he tried to crawl away. He knelt beside him and grasped his knife and pulled it out before rolling him over. Matt's body was overcome by pain as he stared up at the killer's mask. He slowly raised the bloodied blade into the air. Matt knew he had to do something or his life would be very abruptly ended. He reached out with his hand, trying to find something to defend himself with, but could find nothing. His fingers brushed the wooden door to the bathroom. Matt grasped it and pulled it with all his strength. The door slammed into the killer's shoulder and propelled him backward down the staircase. He rolled down it before hitting the woollen carpet in the hall with a thud. Matt seemed to regain some of his strength and pulled himself to his feet, leaning against the wall. He reached up to the wound on his back and felt the blood pouring out soaking his clothes in the thick liquid. He knew he needed medical attention desperately. He peered down at the killer and saw him lying face down in the hall, deadly still. Matt smiled, he knew that he had won. A wave of panic rushed over him as he saw the killer climbing to his feet. He turned and looked up at the injured student. Matt felt a feeling of inevitability. It was like the killer was immortal and was unable to be killed. It was as if it was fate that he was to die. The killer began climbing the staircase once again as if nothing had happened. Matt gritted his teeth. He was not only fighting the killer, he was fighting fate itself. He turned and limped into his bedroom, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He slammed the door and grasped his desk and pulled it. The heavy wooden object made his biceps burn as if they were on fir. The desk slid across the carpet and blocked off the door. It would take immense strength to move it. He heard the killer twist the handle and push, but nothing happened. It would buy him some time. He leant against the wall again as he became light headed. He doubted he would stay conscious for long and needed to put as much distance between him and the killer as he could. He limped toward the window on the other side of the room and pulled it open, cold wind sweeping in through the frame. He peered out, seeing that it was a ten foot drop onto a patio below. He heard the killer slamming against the wooden door. It was not very thick and would not take him long to break through. He slowly climbed onto the window frame and sat on the edge with his legs dangling over the drop. He prepared himself to jump when the killer's hands grabbed him from behind. Matt cried out in shock and tried to wriggle free, but the killer thrust the knife up into his back. Matt screwed his face up in pain as the blade sliced through his flesh. He felt the tip scraping against spine and knew this was it. The killer released his grip and Matt tumbled forward, slamming into the patio with a thud. Matt groaned and looked up at the window, but the killer was gone. Blood was gushing out of his wounds ever faster know. He knew he did not have much time. He hauled himself to his feet using the brick wall of the house before limping across the patio to a wooden gate which lead to an alleyway. He pulled the gate open and stumbled out into the darkness, he was weak having already lost more than a quarter of the blood in his body. He stumbled down the alleyway toward the road and saw lights ahead of him. A car was approaching. He just needed to signal it and he would be safe, the driver would drive him to a hospital and he would not be killed. His heart began to race. He emerged from the alleyway and saw the car less than ten feet away. Suddenly the killer grabbed him from behind and dragged him back into the darkness as the car sped past without stopping. The killer threw Matt to the floor and looked down at him. Matt's head collided hard with the floor, dazing him. It was over, the last chunk of hope had been violently ripped from his body. He watched as the killer knelt beside him, looking at him victoriously.  
"Please," Matt wheezed, "Don't."  
The killer raised the knife into the air and brought it down into the centre of Matt's chest. It easily sliced through his skin and dug into his ribcage. Matt gasped as the pain overcame him as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The killer twisted the blade as Matt gurgled in pain. He pulled the blade out of Matt's body and stabbed him for the forth time. Matt felt the darkness coming. Death was slowly taking him. He wanted the immense pain to end, he wanted to die. The killer slowly began to pull he blade from Matt's chest as he desperately tried to keep breathing. He held the blade up in the air and with one swift movement, slashed Matt's throat open. The skin parted and blood squirted out like a sickening fountain. His skin went grey instantly. He began to gasp for air as the killer watched with glee. Matt's eyes rolled into the back of his head which then rolled to the side. The killer wiped the blood from his blade and disappeared into the night, leaving Matt Lewer's body floating in a pool of its own blood.

Chapter Twelve  
Liam pushed the door to his room open and he and Grace stepped inside, expecting to see George within, but he was nowhere to be seen.  
"I thought you said George was in here," Grace muttered.  
"I thought he was," Liam replied, "The bastard's got my keys!"  
Grace moved over to Liam's desk and picked up his set of keys and threw them to Liam.  
"I guess he didn't," she told him.  
Liam looked down at the set of keys with a look of confusion across his face. Suddenly George dashed in through the open door way. He was panting heavily and his face was covered in sweat.  
"Where the hell have you been?" Liam demanded.  
"Just around," George shrugged.  
"You left my bloody door unlocked man!" he grunted, "Someone could have broken in!"  
"You know me," George winked, "I like to live dangerously. So are we going to the Blowout?"  
"Are you kidding me?!" Liam yelled, "You still want to go to that thing?"  
"I can't think of a better way to honour Georgia and Amy's memory," George replied nonchalantly.  
"You've got to be kidding me!"  
Grace shrugged, "I could use a drink after the day I've had."  
Liam looked at each of them in shock, "I can't believe what I'm hearing!"  
"Come on Liam!" a voice boomed from the doorway.  
The three of them looked around and saw Alex standing in the doorway, his arm around Leah.  
"Don't be a little pussy," Alex taunted, "Come join in."  
Liam glared at him, willing himself not to physically assault him. Alex chuckled to himself as Leah gave shot him a look telling him to stop.  
"We're only having fun right," Alex snarled, his gaze fixed on Liam.  
Liam moved forward aggressively, tensing his muscles but Grace grabbed him by the arm and stared deeply into his eyes.  
"Don't do this," she whispered.  
He sighed and relaxed, but continued to stare at Alex. The two of them glared into each other's eyes, their gaze bubbling with hatred. George looked around, feeling the testosterone in the air, "Shall we go then?"

The five of them walked through the freezing cold December air toward the student bar. Even from fifty yards away they could hear the sound of the music blazing from speakers within and around the entrance gathered dozens of students smoking. Liam looked at them and shivered. How could they possibly stand the cold? Banners covered the front of the bar advertising the Blowout.  
"Are you guys sure about this?" Liam asked.  
"Come on man," George said, trying to persuade him, "They'd want us to have fun bro."  
Liam's thoughts kept falling back to what Tom had said to him about the killer still being out there. If Liam was a psychopathic killer, this would be the perfect opportunity to strike.  
"Nothing's going to happen," George winked, "You've got me to protect you!"  
"Fat lot of good that'll do," Grace smiled.  
In the distance Liam heard the sound of sirens. He looked in their direction, but Leah put her arm around him, "Are you alright?"  
Alex stared on, jealousy and anger coursing through his eyes. Liam sighed, "I'm a bit scared."  
"Just relax," she instructed, "Everything's going to be fine. We just have to have fun tonight."  
The five of them reached the door to the bar. Alex stormed in first, inevitably angry with Leah's close friendship with Liam. He was closely followed by Grace and George. Liam stopped a few feet away from the open door. Leah stopped on the threshold and looked back at him.  
"I don't know whether I can do this."  
Leah put her hand on his shoulder, "Liam, trust me. The police are going to catch the bastard that did this. Everything's going to be fine."  
He sighed, "I don't know Leah."  
She smiled, "What if I get you a drink?"  
Liam bit his lip. He was certain that going out was a bad idea, but Leah was begging him and he would do anything for her. He groaned, "Fine. But I'm only staying for one drink."  
Leah grinned, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the building. The two linked arms and marched toward the bar. Liam winced, the music was deafening and students covered the crowded dance floor. Leah turned to Liam, "What do you want?"  
"Pint of Stella," he muttered.  
She nodded and turned to the bartended, "JD and Coke and a pint of Stella please."  
The bartender nodded and quickly got their drinks before Leah paid him. The two of them took their drinks and scouted the bar for their friends. They saw George, Grace, Dylan, Harry and Alex sitting at a table on the far side of the bar all sipping drinks. Liam and Leah made their way through the crowd while trying not to spill their drinks to sit with their friends.  
"You alright?" Grace mouthed as she looked at Liam.  
He nodded. She sipped her drink and looked across at the dance floor at the students dancing like the world was ending. Liam looked across at Dylan and Harry, "Where's Matt?!"  
He had to yell in order to be heard above the loud music. Dylan shrugged.  
"He said he'd meet us here!" Harry yelled back.  
Liam nodded and took a sip of his ice cold beer before sighing. His thoughts kept falling back to Georgia and Amy. He would never see either of them again. He lifted the glass to his lips again and drained the entire pint. He slammed it back down onto the table and let out an almighty belch. He looked up and saw his friends staring at him in shock.  
"Jeez Liam!" George exclaimed.  
"I need to get very drunk tonight!" Liam groaned.

Chapter Thirteen  
The lights in the jail cells had been switched off as the night rolled in. Jackson sat with his back against the cold wall and watched as Kelsey lay asleep on the small bed in the corner of the room. He could not sleep. He was haunted by the memories of his past and the haunting that was yet to come. He remembered that moment four years ago on the beach of Crocodile Island. He lay injured on the pebbles after tackling Sam Plowman off a twenty foot cliff. Alice quickly rushed down to be at his side, but Plowman crept up behind her. He was forced to watch the final confrontation as Alice stabbed him in the chest with his own knife He felt sick as a dying Plowman professed his undying love for Alice and then the life drained from his body and he simply fell to the side and did not move, never to move again. It seemed as if it were in slow motion as Plowman took his last breaths. He had to watch as one of his best friends died right before his eyes. Having to look into Plowman's cold, lifeless face still gave him nightmares.  
"Hey Jack," a voice beside him said.  
Jackson jumped in fright and turned to his side. His eyes fell upon the naturally good looking face of Sean Alexander. Sean was another of his best friends that he had lost during the killings. It had been nineteen years since Sean was killed by Lucy Wellby and Shaun Lynas in his own home, but he still had the same boyish grin. Jackson's eyes widened with shock and tears began to form in the corners.  
"Sean?" he gasped.  
He grinned, "It's good to see you too Jack."  
"It's been so long," Jackson muttered.  
"Well that's because I'm dead," Sean chuckled.  
"That's not funny!"  
"It must be," Sean winked, "I'm a figment of your imagination remember?"  
Jackson nodded, "I know. I wish you were still here Sean."  
"I know you do."  
"So what's the pep talk this time?" Jackson sniffed, "Last time it was Abi telling me to look on the bright side of my shitty situation! So what are you here for?"  
"The killer's back," Sean told him, "And he's killing people again."  
"I know!" Jackson snarled, "Why the fuck do you think I'm here?!"  
"To stop the bastard," Sean smiled.  
Tears began to trickle from the corners of Jackson's eyes and rolled down his cheek, "How?! I'm locked up in a bloody jail cell!"  
Sean gave him a toothy grin, "You're Jackson Jones, you'll find a way."  
"Jackson?" Kelsey yawned, "Who are you talking to?"  
He looked over at her as she sat up, rubbing her weary eyes. He looked back at where Sean was sitting, but he was gone. He quickly wiped away his tears and forced a smile, "No one. You must have been dreaming."  
There was a heavy clunking as the cell door was unlocked. The two prisoners leapt to their feet as light flooded into the cell from the corridor outside. DCI Phillip Nolan pushed the door open and steeped in followed closely by DI Lily Taylor.  
"There's been another murder," Nolan announced, "Come with me."  
"One one condition," Jackson muttered.  
"What?" Nolan snarled as his face filled with red hot rage, "What?"  
"Call Officer Harwood," Jackson demanded, "Make him come back in."

Ten minutes later, Nolan pulled the handbrake on his expensive black Audi outside the crime scene. There were a dozen uniformed police officers cornering off the scene and taking photographs for evidence. Nolan climbed out of the car in an instant before the others even had a chance. Jackson, Kelsey and Taylor soon followed suit. As they followed Nolan over to the crime scene, Taylor grabbed Jackson's arm and held him back. He glared up at her, "What are you doing?"  
"Nolan has quite a short temper," she warned, "Best not to piss him off tonight."  
Jackson pulled his arm free and ignored her, marching after Nolan. Kelsey smiled up at Taylor, "Yeah he has a short temper too. I think he's the only one that could take him on for rage."  
She followed her best friend leaving Taylor beside the Audi, biting her lip. Nolan led Jackson and Kelsey to Matt Lewer's body. Blood was everywhere and his cold, lifeless eyes stared blankly up into the starry sky. Jackson knelt beside the body, looking down at him in horror.  
"What changed your mind about us?" Jackson growled, looking up angrily at the DCI.  
"We had eye witness accounts," Nolan conceded, "Who all recognised the mask of the Ghostface killer. I was wrong."  
Taylor raised her eyebrows. In all the years she had worked for him, she had never heard Nolan admit defeat. Jackson got to his feet, his nostrils flaring. It was his turn to be angry.  
"You fucking arsehole!" he yelled, "If you had just listened to us, we could have prevented this! This is a murder enquiry! Not a bloody pissing contest!"  
Nolan raised his finger and pointed it at Jackson ready to retaliate, but before he could a Ford Fiesta pulled up alongside Nolan's Audi and Officer Matt Harwood climbed out of the driver's seat wearing a black jumper and jeans. He dashed over to the scene and looked down at the body in shock.  
"My God," he whispered.  
Nolan looked up at him, "Harwood, don't bother coming in a uniform tomorrow, get yourself a suit. You work for me now."  
"What?!" Harwood exclaimed.  
"You made the right call," Nolan explained, "I need people like you on my team."  
Kelsey watched on, she noticed how uncomfortable Nolan looked. She could tell he was not used to giving out praise.  
"Really?" Harwood asked completely flabbergasted.  
"Don't make me change my mind," he growled.  
Kelsey saw Jackson staring at the surroundings.  
"Jackson?" she asked, "What's wrong?"  
"It's far too quiet for a Saturday night on campus," he whispered, "Where is everyone?"  
"They're at the Christmas Blowout," Taylor told him, "It's the night when-"  
"Yes I know what a Blowout is thank you," Jackson snarled sarcastically, "Where?"  
"The SU bar I think," Taylor replied.  
The hairs on the back of Jackson's neck stood up on end. He turned to Kelsey, "You know what happens at parties."  
"The killer strikes," she gasped.  
Nolan nodded, "Let's go. We can catch this guy and end this now."  
He shook his head, "You want to catch him."  
"Of course," Nolan growled.  
"He'll disappear if he sees any sign of police," Jackson explained.  
"WHAT DO WE DO THEN?!" Nolan screamed.  
"Send me, Kelsey and Harwood," Jackson told him, "No one else."  
Nolan frowned, "I don't like this."  
"You don't have to," Jackson muttered, "When we give you the signal you can speed in, sirens blazing. Deal?"  
Nolan reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the keys to his Audi and tossed them to Harwood, Take my car, it's faster."  
Harwood nodded and got into the driver's seat.  
"Don't scratch it!" Nolan warned.  
He moved toward Jackson aggressively, "Don't fuck this up."  
Jackson winked at him, "You can count on me."  
He and Kelsey dashed over to the Audi and climbed in as Harwood revved the engine, speeding off into the darkness. Taylor moved to her boss' side.  
"You're using them as bait aren't you?" she asked.  
"Yes," he replied coldly.

Chapter Fourteen  
Liam sat at the table on his own with yet another empty pint glass sitting in front of him. He and his friends were all intoxicated, but unlike them he was not dancing and having a good time. He sighed and looked over at the dance floor. It was bustling with drunken students, but he could not see anyone he knew. He got to his feet and shuffled toward the bathroom. He barged through the door into the male toilets which was deserted. He rushed over to one of the sinks and turned the cold water tap on. He cupped the water on his hands and splashed it onto his face. He groaned and looked at his pale face in the mirror. His skin looked worn and old as if he had aged twenty years. Grief was not the best of bedfellows. The door to the bathroom burst open again and Alex walked in, his head held high. Liam ignored him and let out a sigh of sorrow.  
"God you're such a pussy," Alex scoffed, "Grow a pair dude."  
Liam spun around and glared at him, "What did you say?"  
Alex moved toward him aggressively, "You heard me you little poof!"  
Liam screwed his face up in anger, projecting pure hatred from his eyes. Alex laughed, "You want to hit me don't you? Well do it! I dare you!"  
Liam clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles went white.  
"I knew you couldn't do it," his nemesis chuckled, "Pussy."  
Liam lashed out with his fist, his knuckled slamming into Alex's jaw. The force of the blow shocked Alex, knocking him off his feet. He clasped his hands to his jaw. Liam's knuckles seared with pain, but he ignored it, his anger overcoming him at long last. Alex looked at Liam, fury in his eyes. He dived forward, tackling Liam backwards. The two of them tumbled into one of the empty cubicles, falling to the floor. Liam punched Alex in the stomach, winding him. Whilst Alex groaned in pain, Liam pulled himself to his feet and headed for the door. He had barely touched the handle before Alex was on his feet again. He ran forward and grabbed Liam by the back of the neck and slammed his head into the heavy wooden door. Liam cried out in pain as blood trickled from his nostrils. Alex threw him to the floor in a fit of rage. Liam's head hit the cold hard floor dazing him. Then Alex released his final blow, kicking Liam in the ribs. There was a crack and Liam screamed in agony. Alex spat out blood and smiled, "It's not easy fighting on your period is it?"  
He wrenched the door open and victoriously marched out of the bathroom leaving Liam writhing around in pain. The young man pulled himself up and leant against the wall, cradling his chest. He felt as if he had cracked a couple of ribs and his nose throbbed as blood poured out. He tried to stem the blood flow with his sleeve, but it was no use as it would not stop. He could already feel the back of his neck bruising from Alex's strong grip. His head hurt terribly and his vision began to blur. Liam groaned and put his head in his hands. He could not believe this was happening, two of his friends were dead and he had just fought his best friend's boyfriend. Leah was going to be so angry at him. His mobile began ringing in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled it out and answered it, "Hello?"  
"Hello Liam," the killer greeted menacingly.  
"Who is this?"  
"It's the last person you're ever going to see alive."  
Liam's eyes widened, His blood began to boil. He knew he was on the phone with the killer. The killer of his friends. He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the immense pain from his ribs.  
"Listen you sick fuck!" Liam yelled, "I'm going to find you and I'm going to fucking kill you!"  
"Oh I'm closer than you think," the killer breathed.  
"You don't scare me!" Liam warned, "You want me? Come and fucking get me!"  
"My pleasure."  
One of the cubicle doors behind him burst open. He jumped, looking up into the mirror, seeing the Ghostface killer sprinting across the bathroom toward him, the light glinting off his metallic weapon. Liam gasped in shock and ducked just as the killer swung his blade toward his throat. The killer's arm soared over his head and the knife collided with the mirror, shattering the glass. Liam darted for the door, but the killer leapt onto his back, choking him from behind. Liam tried to shake him off, but the killer was too strong. Liam felt his head begin to spin due to the lack of oxygen. He used the last of his strength to dive backward, pinning the killer against the wall. Liam grabbed the killers wrists and heaved him forward, pulling him over his shoulder. The robed psychopath fell onto the tiled floor and slid across it, his knife clattering away from him. Liam leapt over him and grasped the handle and wrenched the bathroom door open and dashed through it, but the killed grabbed him by the ankle and with one swift moment pulled him to the ground. The killer grabbed his knife and dived onto the aspiring dentist, thrusting the blade down toward his chest. Liam grabbed the killer's wrists and used all his strength to stop the blade from reaching his skin. It hovered less than a centimetre above his neck. Sweat began to form on Liam's forehead and began to trickle down his cheeks. His arms began to shake from the strain of the killer's weight. He looked up at the Ghostface mask. He could feel the killer's stare. He was staring into Liam's soul. A stare of pure hatred. The tip of the blade edged closer to his skin. He could almost feel the cold metal pressing into his skin. He knew his strength would not last much longer. The killer would soon overpower him and then bleed him like a pig in an abattoir. Surely someone would enter through the open door soon. Surely someone would save him. Why had nobody entered? Why did nobody apart from him and Alex need to use the bathroom? Why was nobody saving him? The blade got ever closer. The tip of the blade was now pressed against his skin. Liam's face screwed up in pain as the tip pierced his skin like a needle. Pain seared through his body. He knew he had only seconds before he would be killed. He had to do something. He opened his mouth and clamped his jaw shut on the killer's gloved hand, his strong teeth cutting into his skin. The killer screamed in pain and dropped the knife. Liam shoved the killer in the chest. The masked murderer rolled backward off him. Liam pulled himself to his feet and dashed out of the bathroom, but the killer grasped the hood on his hooded sweatshirt and began dragging him backwards. Liam allowed the killer to rip the hooded sweatshirt from his body. He sprinted away from the bathroom and toward the heavy wooden fire door which led back to the dance floor. He grabbed the handle and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. Someone had locked it. A wave of horror swept over him. He banged on the solid wood.  
"HELP ME!" he screamed.  
He looked back and saw the killer running at him, his knife held ready. Liam clamped his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the end to come. Waiting for the pain of the killer's blade slicing through his flesh slowly ending his life. He was ready to give up, but then his thoughts fell back to Georgia and Amy. His blood began to bubble and boil again as anger grew within him like a tumour. He opened his eyes and saw the killer just a few feet away from him. Liam lashed out with his fist, punching the killer right in the centre of his mask. He was thrown backward through the air and slammed down onto the floor where he lay still. Liam let out a sigh of relief and leant back against the door. Suddenly there was a knock at the door behind him. Liam jumped in fright, his heart racing.  
"Hello?" the stranger called, "Is anyone there?"  
"Yeah," Liam replied, "Call the police, the killer's in here."  
He turned back to look at the unconscious killer on the floor, but he was no longer on the floor. He was no longer unconscious. He was standing directly in front of Liam, his knife held high in the air. He slashed his blade up toward Liam's chest. The young man leapt backward, but was not quick enough. The blade sliced across his chest, tearing his t-shirt and grazing his skin. Liam fell back against the door in shock, his chest erupting in an explosion of pain. The killer grabbed Liam by the shoulder and tossed him forward down the corridor. He stumbled and fell to the floor, hitting it hard. The stranger began kicking the door, trying to gain access. Liam groaned in pain. He looked up and saw a door to his left. He leapt to his feet and burst through it before the killer could reach him. He turned and slammed the door shut, but the killer stuck his arm through, preventing it from closing. Liam turned and saw a staircase behind him which led to the rooftop. He dashed up the stairs, taking them four at a time. He could feel the muscles in thighs burning from the strain. He looked behind him and saw the killer chasing him. He ignored him and kept sprinting up the staircase. He could almost feel the killer's hands reaching out to grab him. He knew he had to keep going because if he didn't, the killer would slaughter him. He saw the door to the roof just a few feet away from him up the staircase. He was just a few steps away. He leapt for the door and burst through it. He lost his footing and tumbled forward onto the gravel surface of the room. The gravel punished his body, digging up into his skin. He panted and heard the gravel crunching behind him. He rolled over and saw the killer stepping out onto the roof, his bloodied knife in his hand. What had he been thinking? He had trapped himself on a roof with a murderous psychopath with no possible means of escaped. He was doomed. As the killer advanced, Liam tried to crawl away, but he knew he was just prolonging the inevitable. He crawled right to the edge of the building and sighed. This was the end. He sat on the gravel and faced the killer. He knelt beside Liam and pressed the blade to Liam's neck.  
"Hey arsehole!" a booming voice yelled from behind them.  
The killer spun around, but he was hit in the face by a strong punch before he could react. The killer recoiled in pain and the attacker pounced again, punching the killer in the stomach, winding him. Liam watched as the attacker released the final blow, striking the killer in the chin with his fist. The blow propelled the killer backward off the edge of the roof. He seemed to hang in the air for a second before plummeting out of sight. Liam heard a thud as he hit the ground. Liam looked up at his saviour in shock, "Who the hell are you?!"  
The figure smiled, "Jackson Jones, nice to meet you too."  
Jackson moved to the edge of the building and peered over. He saw a dumpster directly beneath them which the killer had fallen into. Jackson watched in anger as the killer hauled himself out onto the tarmac ground. He looked up at the author victoriously before turning and sprinting into the darkness as sirens rang out across the night. Jackson turned back to Liam and helped him to his feet, "Are you alright?"  
Liam did not respond. Jackson stared down at the knife wound on his chest, "We should probably get that looked at."  
Suddenly Kelsey and Harwood burst out onto the roof.  
"Police are on their way," Harwood announced.  
Kelsey saw Liam's wound and moved forward, "Sit down, I can help with that."  
"What are you a doctor?" Liam demanded.  
"Yes," Kelsey responded, "In a manner of speaking."  
She sat Liam down on the gravel floor and began tending to his wound. Harwood moved to Jackson's side as the sirens got louder around them, "Did you see him?"  
Jackson nodded, "Ghostface is back."

Chapter Fifteen  
Alice Lidbetter sat on her own in her living room. The lights were switched off and the only light in the room was the orange glow from the roaring fire which she had lit earlier that night. She sat in a leather armchair in the corner of the room, a glass of aged Scotch whisky in one hand and a photograph in the other. A photograph of three beaming teenagers. It was taken at the prom at the end of year eleven. She was standing in the centre, dressed in a long turquoise silk dress with her hair hanging beautifully down to her shoulders. On either side of her stood her two friends who were dressed in black suits, trying their best to look handsome. Jackson Jones and Sam Plowman beamed at the camera. Alice remembered the moment the photograph had been taken. Plowman had come to her for advice. He was having relationship issues with his girlfriend Sally Cattani, the same Sally Cattani who would a year later try to kill her boyfriend and most of his friends. Plowman was worried that Sally no longer loved him and was afraid their relationship was steering toward rocks. Alice had told him to show Sally how much he cared for her. He needed to do something that proved his love. Plowman thanked Alice and later that night recreated the balcony scene from Rome and Juliet for her. How different things might have been if Alice had given him different advice and his relationship would have ended before Sally became a killer. After Sally's betrayal Plowman's mental health slowly deteriorated until he himself became a killer. He faked his own death before committing the massacre of Crocodile Island. Tears began to run down Alice's cheeks. If it wasn't for her advice Plowman would still be alive. She had killed him.

Alice looked around as she stopped to catch he breath.  
"KELSEY?!" Alice yelled.  
She and Kelsey were trying to find the rescue helicopter so they could be airlifted off the island before Plowman would be able to kill them, but know she did not know where Kelsey was. She had no idea how the two of them gotten separated and now she found herself alone with no idea of where to meet the rescue team. She was all alone; she regretted leaving Jackson and Ben to fend off Plowman alone in the Cannery and now they could both be dead.  
"Alice?" a voice whispered from behind her.  
Alice slowly turned and saw Ben looked at her. Alice ran forward and hugged him, "Thank God you're alright, where's Jackson?"  
Ben looked at her, "I'm sorry, Plowman got him."  
Alice stumbled backward in shock, looking at Ben. For the second time during their trip, she had lost Jackson, but this time he was really dead and there was no chance of him coming back. Her best friend was dead and to make it even worse, he had been killed by one of her oldest friends. Her skin went pale and her heart sank. She was the last one left.  
"I'm sorry Alice," Ben muttered.  
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his blade and it glinted in the sunlight. He saw Plowman creeping out from behind a tree behind Alice. He too was holding a blade. Alice looked at the knife in confusion, "Ben, what are you doing?"  
"Doing my job," he told her, "I'm sorry, but you have to die."  
He leapt forward toward her, ready to strike the final blow and end all his work. Plowman rushed forward and grabbed Alice's shoulder and threw her to the ground out of harm's way. Plowman took up his blade and thrust it up into Ben's chest, stabbing him in the heart. Ben gasped in shock, releasing the blade from his hand which fell harmlessly to the floor. Plowman held the hilt of the blade tightly as Ben gasped for air. He looked into the eyes of his employer in shock.  
"Why?" he whispered.  
"There's been a slight change of plan," Plowman growled, "Sorry Ben."  
Plowman pulled the blade out of Ben's chest which was followed by a stream of blood. Ben fell to his knees and tried to cover his wound, but blood was gushing out too fast. His heart was pierced and his time was running out. Plowman looked down at him victoriously as Alice watched in horror. Ben reached out and grabbed Plowman's jacket, but he was too weak to do anything.  
"Plowman," he breathed.  
But that was all he could do. His grip released and he tumbled backward onto the forest floor, lying still, his cold, lifeless eyes staring up into the sky. Plowman looked down at Ben's body for a second before looking up at Alice. He smiled as he saw the look of horror on her face, "Don't worry Alice. It's over now."  
Alice pulled herself to her feet and sprinted away from Plowman. Plowman sighed to himself and slipped his blade into his belt and sprinted after her. She looked over her shoulder and saw him just a few feet behind him. She did not know what to do. Only she, Plowman and Kelsey were left alive on the island. She did not know where Kelsey was or if she had been killed. She had nowhere to run to. No one was there to help her. She felt Plowman's strong bony fingers grab her neck from behind. She was powerless to defend herself as he pulled her off her feet and threw her to the ground. He head slammed into a tree root sticking out of the ground, dazing her. She looked up into the sky as a helicopter flew overhead and then everything went black.

Alice woke up with a start. She was lying in the middle of a soft double bed with a duck feather duvet lying across her. For a second she thought it all had been a dream, but suddenly she remembered everything. She sat up in horror and looked around the room. She was in a small bedroom with cream coloured walls. Dotted around the room were dozens of photographs. Photographs she instantly recognised at ones she had taken with Plowman. She threw the duvet off her body, but gasped finding that she was just in her underwear. She looked around again and saw a stack of freshly laundered and folded clothes on the bedside table. She grabbed them and began pulling them on.

A few moments later, a fully dressed Alice pulled the door to the bedroom open and peered out into the corridor. Alice recognised the mahogany floorboards on the landing and the cream coloured walls. This was the house that she had shared with her father when they lived on the island. Alice felts sick from her head injury, but she knew she had to stay focused. She crept out of the bedroom, but groaned as one of the floorboards beneath her feet creaked. She held her breath as she waited for noise, but the house was silent. Her heart raced as he moved down the corridor, passing a dozen more photographs of her and Plowman. She reached a staircase and looked down it, but there was no one blocking her path. Alice took it one step at a time, taking care not to make a sound. She reached the bottom and found herself in the kitchen. She looked up and saw a mug of steaming coffee sitting on the breakfast bar in front of her.  
"Hey," a voice whispered from beside her.  
Alice looked around in shock and saw Sam Plowman appearing out of the bathroom. He smiled and stared at her terrified face.  
"Sorry, I didn't think I'd be this nervous," he muttered, "You want something to eat?"  
"What the hell is going on?" Alice demanded as she looked at Plowman in shock.  
"I chose you," Plowman told her, "Ben wanted to kill you, but I couldn't. I had this all planned for you. I did it all for you."  
"You killed people for me?" Alice asked.  
Plowman nodded.  
"You're insane!" Alice yelled, "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why didn't you tell us you were alive?! What the hell happened to you?!"  
"I want a quiet life," Plowman told her, "So I planned it for years. I made it so we could be together on the island you grew up on."  
"You've killed everyone I ever loved!" Alice screamed, "Abi, Ollie, Chloe, Jackson!"  
"I could have killed them all a long time ago!" Plowman yelled, "But I didn't! I knew you would have wanted to spend more time with them!"  
"Fuck you!" Alice yelled.  
Plowman picked up the steaming mug and offered it to her, "Here, have some coffee."  
She ignored the gesture and glared at him, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"  
"I love you Alice," he admitted, "I always have."  
"NO!" Alice yelled.  
She slapped the mug out of Plowman's hand and it flew into the wall. The mug shattered throwing coffee everywhere. She turned and sprinted back up the stairs and back into the bedroom she had woken up in, slamming the door behind her. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing into her knees. She heard heavy footsteps from the other side of the door.  
"Alice," Plowman said soothingly, "I know it's hard, but you'll get used to it. Just come down when you're ready."

Plowman waited in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping at a fresh cup of coffee. He could not help thinking about Alice. He knew she was in a dark place, but he felt confident that she would come around and be happy that the two of them could be together forever. He heard something smashing upstairs. He looked up at the ceiling, worry in his eyes. Fear ran through him that something had happened to her.  
"Alice?" he called, "I'm coming up."  
He got off his chair and marched to the staircase, but saw Alice blocking his path. In her hand she held a shard of glass that she had taken from one of the many photo frames she had just smashed. She had a look of anger on her face that he had never seen before. He stepped backward into the kitchen, "Alice, I'm not going to hurt you."  
Alice stepped out into the kitchen and held the glass in front of her so tightly that it cut through her skin.  
"You're a psychopath!" she yelled.  
She dropped the glass which clattered to the floor before grabbing a fruit bowl which sat on the breakfast bar and threw it at one of the patio doors. The glass door shattered as the bowl hit it, sending a cascade of broken glass fragments to the ground. Alice leapt out of the ruined door into the cold morning air and sprinted away from the house.  
"ALICE!" Plowman yelled.  
He sprinted after her. Alice dashed across the grassy floor dodging tress as she went. She looked behind her and saw Plowman close behind her. She knew she could not evade him for long. She saw a small brick garage a few metres away from her and headed toward it. She burst thought the wooden door and looked around the darkened garage. On the far wall there was a thick metal pole. Alice gasped, seeing a figure handcuffed it with a rag in his mouth. The figure slowly looked up and Alice gasped. Jackson Jones was alive. His eyes widened as he saw her. He tried to say something, but the rag prevented him from doing so. Alice's heart raced.  
"Jackson," she gasped.  
Plowman appeared in the doorway and grabbed her hair and dragged her backward out of the garage and back up to the house as she cried out in pain. He dragged her up the staircase and threw her into the bedroom. She stumbled and fell onto the bed. She looked around at the doorway. And saw Plowman glaring at her in anger.  
"Why is he alive?" she demanded.  
"Kelsey got off the island," he explained, "She knew I had help, but no one knows it was Ben. I need him to sign a confession so that the police wont come looking for the accomplice. But he wont do it unless he talks to you."  
"You're going to kill him as soon as he signs it aren't you?"  
"He needs to go Alice," he told her, "So we can live in peace."  
"I wont do it," she protested, "I can't say goodbye to him."  
"You have to."  
"I WONT DO IT!" she yelled.  
Plowman glared down at her, "This is stupid. I'll let you out when you act a little more mature."  
He slammed the door and Alice heard his locking it. Alice leapt forward and tried to heave it open, but she couldn't. She pulled out a hairclip from her blonde hair and slipped it into the lock and tried to pick the lock, but she couldn't. She angrily threw the hair clip across the room and collapsed against the door, staring at the floor in exhaustion.

An hour later, Plowman unlocked the door to the bedroom and pushed it open, looking inside. He saw Alice lying on the bed, staring at the wall as tears covered her cheeks. He smiled and sat on the end of the bed next to her, slowly stroking her hair.  
"I just want everything to go back to the way it was," she sniffed.  
"It will. Trust me," he said softly, "There's just one thing you have to do first."

Plowman led Alice across the garden toward the garage. He was holding onto her arm protectively to make sure she wouldn't run away again. He pulled the door open to the garage and let go of Alice's arm. She dashed inside and ran over to Jackson. She pulled the rag out of her mouth as tears began to form in her eyes again.  
"I'm so sorry Jackson," she muttered.  
"It's okay," he replied as he tried his hardest not to cry.  
"You're my best friend," she told him, "I never wanted this to happen to you."  
Plowman looked on, glaring at the two of them.  
"I'm so sorry," she cried, "I love you."  
She hugged him. He was her best friend and she didn't want to lose her. Jackson felt her slip something into his cuffed hand. She looked into his eyes knowingly and kissed him on the cheek. Plowman's blood began to boil. He moved forward and grabbed Alice by the hair again, dragging her backward.  
"GET THE HELL OFF HER!" Jackson yelled.  
"I don't love you," Alice growled as she glared up at Plowman.  
His anger overwhelmed him and he lashed out, slapping Alice's face. The force of the blow knocked her into a work bench. She slammed into it, knocking over a tool box which clattered to the floor, spewing its contents out before falling to the floor herself, cradling her cheek. Plowman ran his fingers through his hair, "I shouldn't have done that. Alice I'm so sorry."  
She grasped a screwdriver from the toolbox and drove it down into Plowman's boot. It sliced through the footwear and sliced into his flesh. He cried out in pain as Alice leapt to her feet and sprinted out of the door. Plowman pulled the screwdriver out of his foot and threw it across the room in anger. He pulled his knife out of his belt and dashed after Alice. Jackson looked down at what Alice had given him. It was a hairpin. His heart raced as he inserted it into the keyhole on the handcuffs. lice sprinted through the dense forests, away from the house, away from the garage and away from Sam Plowman. She knew there must be someone on the island close by that would be able to save her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Plowman sprinting after her.  
"ALICE!" he yelled, "Alice! Where are you going?!"  
She ignored him and kept running.  
"If there's anyone else on the island they're miles away!"  
Alice just kept on running. There must be something that she could do, some means of escape. She skidded to a halt, seeing the ground stop in front of her. She was on the edge of a cliff face that led down to a pebbled beach twenty feet below. She heard Plowman's footsteps behind her and slowly turned around.  
"Alice," he panted, "I don't know why you're being like this. Everything I've done, I've done for you. I love you."  
He moved closer to her, but she edged away from him, pure hatred in her eyes, "What makes you think I want to touch you?!"  
"We've known each other for so long," he beamed, "This makes sense."  
"How does this makes sense?" she cried, "You told Jackson you'd kill me if he didn't sign the confession didn't you?"  
Plowman shook his head, "I could never hurt you."  
"Then why do you have that knife?" she asked as she pointed at the menacing weapon in his hand.  
Plowman stared into her eyes without blinking. He tossed the blade away from him over the edge of the cliff and it clattered down onto the pebbles below.  
"See," he smiled, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."  
Alice glared at him, "You've killed everybody that I love!"  
"But you have me!" Plowman shrieked.  
"I DON'T WANT YOU!" Alice screamed.  
Plowman's face fell as he looked at her shocked. She watched the hope drain from his eyes as he realised that all the years of planning had been in vein. Alice wasn't in love with him. He had failed. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Jackson dashed into view. He leapt at Plowman and tackled him. Alice was forced to watch in horror as the two of them tumbled over the edge They seemed to fall in slow motion, their bodies entangled. Alice clasped her hands to her mouth as they disappeared out of sight. She desperately looked for a way down and saw a set of stone steps leading down to the beach to her left. Alice dashed over to them and sprinted down them two at a time until she emerged on the beach below. The pebbles crunched beneath her feet as she ran across them. She saw Jackson lying on the pebbles at the water's edge barely moving, staring up into the sky. Her heart sank. She marched over to him and knelt beside him, seeing Plowman's blade lying beside him. She gently shook him. He slowly opened his eyes and groaned.  
"Are you alright?" she asked frantically.  
"No," he croaked.  
He smiled at her and rested his head back on the pebbles as the water lapped at his hair. He closed his eyes and Alice breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly Jackson looked up in horror as he heard the pebbles crunching behind Alice. Alice's fury overcame her and she grasped the knife beside her. She spun around and thrust the knife up into Plowman's chest. He gasped in shock as the blade sliced through him. Immediately she looked at what she had done in horror. The blade had sliced through his ribcage, mortally wounding him. He looked at her shocked pale face as both of her eyes glistened with tears. The two of them looked into each other's eyes with looks of sadness and regret. He slowly collapsed two his knees and Alice knelt in front of him, he hands still on the hilt of the blade. He slowly panted as he felt death coming to claim him. He stared at his beloved.  
"I love you," he whispered.  
Alice released her grip on the blade. Plowman took one more loving glance into her eyes. Alice could almost feel the life escaping his body as he slowly fell to the side with a sigh, laying deadly still at the water's edge in a foetal position. Alice clasped her hands to her mouth as she looked down at the dead body of Sam Plowman. The tide was rolling in and the water was beginning to submerge him. She turned to Jackson and helped him to his feet. She put his arm over her shoulder and began helping him to walk toward the stone staircase, using her body as an organic crutch. Alice took one last look over her shoulder at Plowman's body. His eyes were closed and his face for the first time in years was not filled with worry, hate or fear. Finally he was at peace. The water rolled over his body as his watery grave was sealed forever.

Alice sniffed as she looked down at the photograph. Her hands were trembling. The glass of whisky slipped through her fingers and fell thought the air. It collided with the oak floorboards and shattered into dozens of pieces and covering the carpet in expensive whisky. She dropped the photograph and it floated to the floor as she sobbed loudly into her hands as she remembered those she had lost.

Chapter Sixteen  
Jackson Jones stood in the waiting area of Stoke City Hospital with a polystyrene cup of coffee in his hand. Liam had been admitted into the Accident and Emergency department to have his wounds tended to. Jackson stared down at the floor. He could not believe the killings were happening again. Ghostface was back. It was his worst nightmare. He thought the killings were over after the death of Sam Plowman, but evidentially he was wrong. He had rushed up to Stoke thinking he was some type of "expert". He was no expert. He had survived the previous massacres through blind luck, nothing more. These kids probably had no greater chance of survival with him around. He already knew he had made a mistake by coming. A hand soothingly touched his shoulder. He turned and saw Kelsey looking up at him. He forced a smile, "How is he?"  
"He needed stitches and has got a couple of bruised ribs. Other than that he's absolutely fine," she told him, "Just a little shaken up."  
"Good," Jackson nodded.  
"How are you doing?" she asked.  
"Oh just great," he said sarcastically as he sipped his coffee.  
Kelsey sighed, "It must have been tough seeing the killer again."  
He nodded.  
"How did that make you feel?"  
"Don't pull that psychiatric bullshit on me," he warned, "I'm fine."  
"You look it," she replied sarcastically.  
He smiled and took another sip of coffee. The automatic doors to the department slid open and Officer Matt Harwood marched into the department from the cold night air. Jackson and Kelsey looked up at him expectantly.  
"Any news?" Jackson asked.  
Harwood sighed and shook his head, "There's no sign of the killer. We've got people checking everywhere, but so far nothing."  
"You wont find him," Jackson grimaced, "Not until we find the next body."  
He tossed his half empty cup of coffee into a nearby dustbin and checked the time on his watch, it was well past midnight. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.  
"Why is this happening?!" he growled.  
"Excuse me? A sheepish voice asked from behind them.  
The three of them turned to see a shivering Leah Scott standing in the doorway.  
"I'm here to see Liam Cook," she muttered, "I was told he's been attacked."

Jackson, Kelsey and Harwood led Leah into Liam's hospital room. Liam lay on a gurney, a duvet covering his body, his chest wrapped in thick white bandages.  
"Leah?" he gasped.  
She dashed to his side, tears spilling down her cheeks. She pulled him into a tight hug. He winced in pain, "Leah! The stitches!"  
Leah pulled back apologetically, "Sorry. I thought I'd lost you."  
He groaned and lay back in his pillows.  
"Are you alright?" she asked, "Sorry. Stupid question."  
He forced a smile.  
"What the hell happened?" she asked.  
"He attacked me," Liam grunted, "It was the same bastard that killed Georgia, Amy and Matt."  
Leah looked at him in terror, "Matt?!"  
He nodded, "Matt's dead, they told me."  
His best friend gasped as tears dripped from her eyes, "Oh my God."  
"I guess Tom was right," Liam deduced, "This is just like the Steyning massacre."  
Harwood turned to Jackson and Kelsey, "Do you think she had anything to do with it?"  
"Are you kidding me?" Jackson scoffed, "Look at her, her grief's genuine."  
"Come on," Harwood told him, "I read the files. The best friend is always either the killer or a target."  
"I work with killers everyday," Kelsey explained, "She's no killer."  
"Then who?" Harwood asked.  
"We need to get them all together," Jackson announced, "It's our best chance of catching the killer."

Chapter Seventeen  
George, Grace, Alex, Dylan and Harry all sat in Grace's dorm room in silence. A cloud of sorrow hung above them.  
"I can't believe Liam was attacked," Grace whispered.  
"I can't believe Matt's dead," Harry added.  
The others looked at him in shock.  
"Matt's dead?!" George exclaimed.  
"I thought you guys knew," Harry muttered, "It's all over Facebook."  
He gestured down at his Smartphone.  
"Just because its on Facebook doesn't make it true you twat!" Alex yelled.  
"I heard one of the police officers talking about another murder," Grace whispered, "Oh my God it's true!"  
Dylan looked at the floor in horror as the group was silenced yet again with the addition of this new loss. Grace shivered. She could feel tears trying to escape from the corners of her eyes. She blinked, trying to stem the flow. Alex meanwhile was scowling at the door. On a night where another of their friends had been murdered, his girlfriend had run off to be with the boy who obviously had feelings for her. Anger bubbled through him like a monstrous force as he clenched his fists. He had always had anger management issues, ever since he was a young boy he had always had a short temper, but when he saw Liam he could barely control his rage. He knew Liam was just trying to pry Leah away from him. He knew Liam had an agenda. An agenda to turn Leah against him by always playing the innocent victim. It made him furious. Dylan slowly got to his feet, his skin pale with shock.  
"I think I'm going to go home," he announced, "I need some sleep. I just want this day to be over."  
"People are saying our house is where Matt was killed dude!" Harry exclaimed, "Do you think they're just going to let you in."  
George got to his feet, "You can stay at mine."  
"You sure?" Dylan asked.  
George nodded, "None of us should be alone on a night like tonight."  
"Thanks," Dylan nodded.  
He was not in the mood to smile, no one was in the mood to smile.  
"I want to go check on Liam first," George announced, "Give me an hour and then we can go back to mine."  
He moved toward the door, but before he could reach it, Alex leapt to his feet and barged past George before disappearing out of the open door. George looked back at the others, "What the hell is his problem?"

Chapter Eighteen  
Jackson, Kelsey and Harwood watched as Leah sat beside Liam's bed. There was a knock at the door. It was pushed open and DCI Nolan stuck his head in.  
"Can I have a word please?" he asked.  
The three of them nodded and followed him out of the room, leaving the two students alone. Nolan and Taylor closed the door before looking at the others.  
"We found no trace of the killer," Nolan grimaced.  
"It's like he's a ghost," Taylor added.  
Her superior glared across at her as a signal to stop talking.  
"I think it'll be a good idea if we sit Liam and his group of friends down and tell them everything," Jackson announced, "It'll be good for them to know, so they can be on top of things and try and keep themselves safe."  
Nolan nodded, "Good idea. Where are you two staying tonight?"  
Jackson and Kelsey looked across at each other, realising neither of them had thought about accommodation.  
"We'll put you up in a hotel just outside of town," the Detective Chief Inspector told them, "We'll take you now."  
Jackson shook his head, "I think I'm going to stay."  
Nolan raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"  
"That kid in there has no family for hundreds of miles," he explained, "He's going to need some support."  
"Fine," Nolan grunted, "Doctor Welch, with us."  
Kelsey slowly looked up at Jackson, "Are you sure you'll be alright?"  
He nodded, "I'll be fine, just go to the hotel and get some sleep."  
"I can drop you off later," Harwood offered to Jackson.  
Kelsey shrugged, "I guess I'll see you in a couple of hours."  
Nolan and Taylor slowly led Kelsey away. Jackson sighed and rubbed his eyes.  
"You alright?" Harwood asked him.  
He slowly nodded, "Just a bit in shock really. This morning I was drinking tea in Steyning and just a few hours and two hundred miles later I'm here trying to solve murders."  
"A lot happens in a day," the young police officer shrugged.  
Jackson smiled and nodded, "That's very true."  
The door to Liam's room opened and Leah slowly stepped out. Jackson and Harwood looked down at her.  
"Is everything alright?" they asked.  
She nodded, "I'm so tired, I think I'm just going to go home and get some sleep."  
Her two elders nodded in agreement. She set up toward the door, but stopped and looked over her shoulder, "Look after him."  
Jackson and Harwood watched as she walked out of the A&E department and into the darkness.  
"Are you sure she's not a suspect?" Harwood asked, "There's just something about her."  
Jackson shook his head, "She's not the killer. Trust me."  
He looked through the glass window and saw Liam laying on his own. He felt a sudden rush of empathy coursing through his veins for the young man. He saw comparisons between Liam's grief and his own. He would always remember his first encounter with the killer. He sighed and turned to Harwood, "Stay here."  
"Where are you going?" Harwood asked.  
Jackson pushed the door open to Liam's room and looked back at the police officer, "To be moral support."  
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked over at Liam as he stared up at the ceiling.  
"How are you doing?" Jackson asked.  
"Just great," he replied sarcastically.  
He looked up at Jackson, "Who the hell are you anyway? How do you know so much about the killer?"  
"I'm you. Or I was you twenty four years ago," he explained.  
Liam looked at him with an expression of confusion, "What?"  
"I've been through this six times," Jackson told him, "These killings, they've happened to me six times before."  
"Bullshit," Liam snarled.  
Jackson pulled down his jumper revealing three horrific scars on his shoulder.  
"These are just a few of them," he explained, "I've got about half a dozen more."  
Liam gazed at the scars in shock. The forty year old pulled up a chair and sat beside the young man's bed, "You know how people say they know how you feel, but you know they have no bloody idea."  
He nodded.  
"I know how you feel," he assured, "Don't worry, I'll help you through this."  
He placed one of his strong hands on Liam's shoulder and smiled.

Chapter Nineteen  
Detective Chief Inspector Phillip Nolan sped his black Audi down a long country road leading away from the city of Stoke . He and his junior colleague DI Lily Taylor were escorting Doctor Kelsey Welch to her hotel just outside the city. The psychiatrist sat in the backseat, staring out of the window into the night. She felt more like a prisoner than someone who needed to be protected. She let out a long sigh of exhaustion. Her eye lids felt heavy. She wanted nothing more than to lay on a soft mattress with a thick duck feather duvet wrapped around her body and go to sleep, but she knew she couldn't. she knew she had to wait until her best friends safe return. In the past six hours her worst fears had been realised. The creature from her nightmares had returned from the depths of hell. Ghostface was back and they were all in danger. No one would be safe until the killer was either captured or killed. In her two encounters with the psychopaths that had donned the iconic movie costume she had almost died at lest half a dozen times. The killers were always fast, strong, agile, determined and most terrifyingly, they were all intelligent. It seems that whatever they did to try and catch him, he was always one step ahead, ready to strike the fatal blow. Kelsey winced. The cold of the Northern nights was causing her knife scars to ache terribly. She still remembered the immense pain she had felt when the blade pierced her skin. The killer fled immediately, leaving Kelsey for dead. She thought she was going to die as she lay on the floor of her own office.

Jackson Jones pulled the handbrake on his black Range Rover outside Kelsey Welch's office on Brighton seafront. The two of them leapt out of the vehicle and sprinted into the darkened building. The two of them were trying to catch the killer who was terrorising the students of BHASVIC, one of the many sixth form college in Brighton. The two dashed down pitch black marble corridors as Kelsey unlocked doors which sat in their path with her set of keys.  
"What are we here for?" Jackson asked.  
"After I wrote my book," Kelsey explained, "I started a website so people could send me questions."  
Jackson nodded as she continued.  
"There was one person who was obsessed with the massacres and kept asking about the survivors and asking me how to evade capture," she told him, "If I can find his IP address then I think we have a pretty good suspect, don't you?"  
Jackson beamed, "That's brilliant!"  
Kelsey shook her head modestly, "You can call it brilliant if it works."  
She turned a corner and unlocked the heavy oak door to her office and pushed it open. She marched inside and sat behind her mahogany desk at her computer and typed in her password. Jackson looked around her very middle class office in admiration. He saw Kelsey's book lying open on her desk. He picked it up and began flicking through the many pages until he found a section dedicated to him. He began scanning the pages with haste, his eyebrows raised. Kelsey said he was arrogant, self-obsessed, violent and possibly a suspect. Kelsey grinned, "I found him!"  
She blushed as she saw him reading her book, "Don't read that!"  
"Violent? Self obsessed? Arrogant?" Jackson asked, his voice shocked, "Really?"  
"You know I don't really mean those things," she told him, "I'm just a writer trying to sell books, I'm sorry."  
Jackson chuckled and dropped the book onto the table as Kelsey showed him the killer's profile. His domain name was ScreamFan666. Jackson scoffed, "ScreamFan666? How original."  
Kelsey clicked on his name and began to trace his IP address. She looked up at Jackson, "This could take a few minutes."  
Jackson nodded, "Be as quick as you can."  
He stared up at the open door in silence, deep in though. Kelsey looked up at him, "What's wrong?"  
"It too easy," Jackson muttered.  
"You think this is a trap?" Kelsey asked.  
"Wouldn't it be the perfect trap?" Jackson replied, "If the killer's read your book then he knows me. Knows that I would do anything to catch him, including trying to trace his IP address. I'm predictable."  
"My God," Kelsey whispered.  
Jackson turned to her, "Be as quick as you can, we're not alone."  
He marched toward the oak door to her office and slammed it shut, revealing the killer standing behind it, his knife in hand. Jackson had no time to react as the killer tackled him to the floor. Kelsey leapt backward in shock. Jackson reached into his belt and pulled out his gun, but the killer twisted it out of his grip and threw it across the office. Kelsey leapt over the desk and collided with the killer, knocking him off Jackson. The killer lashed out with his fist, striking Kelsey in the jaw. The force of the blow threw her across the room. She collided with the hard marble floor and her unconscious body slid across the smooth surface. The killer leapt at her, holding his knife in the air, ready to bring it down onto her chest, but Jackson grabbed him around the waist and dragged him backward away from the psychiatrist. Jackson smelt the sweet smelling perfume that the killer was wearing. The killer, seeing that he was distracted, elbowed him in the stomach. A winded Jackson stumbled backward in shock. The killer turned and leapt toward him, but Jackson jumped out of the way and the killer smashed into the wall. Jackson sprinted at him, but the killer turned and stabbed the knife in Jackson's direction. The blade sliced through the sleeve of Jackson's jumped and cut through his flesh. The author cried out in pain as the killer leapt at him once again, knocking him to the floor for the second time. The killer raised his blade and brought it down, but Jackson sent a fist flying in the killer's direction. His knuckles collided with the killer's mask; he let out a cry of pain and rolled backward off Jackson. Jackson used Kelsey's desk to pull himself to his feet and faced the killer as he got up, knife in hand, ready to battle the author once again. Jackson groaned. He was tired, his arm was bleeding. He knew that whatever he did to try and overpower the killer, the killer came back stronger.  
"Hands up you son of a bitch!" Kelsey growled.  
Jackson and the killer spun around and saw Kelsey standing in the doorway. Her skin pale and her body shaking. In her shivering hands she held Jackson's gun, pointing it at the killer's chest.  
"Put the knife down," Kelsey warned.  
The killer began moving toward Kelsey aggressively.  
"STAY THE FUCK THERE!" she screamed.  
"Kelsey-" Jackson begun.  
"DON'T MOVE!" Kelsey yelled, interrupting him.  
But the killer would not stop and moved toward her, holing his knife tightly.  
"Kelsey!" Jackson yelled, "The safety's on!"  
Kelsey looked down at the pistol in horror, realising her mistake. Before she could turn the safety off or Jackson could help her, the killer pounced. He threw his knife toward Kelsey. She looked up at the glistening metal in horror, too petrified to move. The blade hit her in the shoulder, slicing through her flesh. She cried out in pain, dropping the pistol to the floor. Her face contorted in pain as she stumbled backward.  
"NO!" Jackson screamed.  
The killer ran forward and grasped the hilt of the blade and pulled it out of Kelsey's shoulder. The psychiatrist's knees gave way and she began falling to the ground. The scene unfolded in slow motion as Jackson watched, unable to help. The killer thrust the blade up into Kelsey's back. The knife cut through her flesh, puncturing her stomach. The killer pulled the blade out once again and wrenched the door open and dashed out into the darkness. Jackson sprinted forward as Kelsey fell to the floor and caught her. He looked down at her. Her skin was pale and her wounds were gushing out blood.  
"I'm sorry," she wheezed.  
"There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured her.  
"You should go," she breathed, "Catch that son of a bitch."  
"I'm not leaving you here!" he exclaimed.  
"Don't worry about me," she told him, "Just kill him."  
Jackson pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and dialled the emergency services. He frantically asked for an ambulance and told the operator their location. He hung up and dropped his phone to the floor and continued to cradle Kelsey's weak body.  
"An ambulance is on it's way," he told her, "You're going to be fine."  
"Please," Kelsey pleaded, "Don't make me the reason you don't catch him. Just leaver me."  
"I'm not leaving you!" Jackson yelled, "I have lost too many people today!"  
Sirens began ringing out through the night, slowly getting louder as Jackson felt the psychiatrist getting weaker and weaken in his arms. She looked up at him with dazed eyed, "I was wrong about you."  
"What do you mean?" he asked.  
"You're not arrogant," she whispered, "You're just bloody stubborn!"  
He laughed as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He watched as her eyelids slowly rolled shut and her head fell back. His heart sank, "Kelsey?!"  
He slowly shook her body, but she would not wake.  
"KELSEY!"

Kelsey was rushed to hospital and admitted to surgery immediately. The surgeons said she was incredibly lucky to have survived and that her heart had stopped several times during surgery. They told her that if she got to the hospital just a few seconds later she would have died. Kelsey groaned, trying to banish the memories from her mind, but the images of Matt Lewer's lifeless corpse seeped back into her mind. She felt sick, the sight was disgusting and not something she ever wanted to see again. Deep down she regretted ever writing her book on the Steyning Massacre. If she hadn't the killer would have never targeted her. She wished that Jackson and the police would find the killer swiftly so no others needed to die. Taylor looked back at her from the front seat, "Are you alright Doctor Welch?"  
"Yeah," Kelsey lied.  
"We'll be there soon," she explained.  
Kelsey leant against the cold glass and stared at the numerous trees they passed. She knew it had been a mistake following Jackson up to Stoke. It had been reckless and she had a feeling it was not going to end well. About thirty feet ahead of the Audi, a shadowy figure stood at the roadside, watching as the car approached. He knelt down and rolled something across the tarmac road and disappeared back into the bushes as the car approached. The figure had rolled tire spikes onto the road. Spikes that police officers used to disable criminal's cars during chases. Nolan had no idea of his oncoming doom and refused to slow down. The Audi's front tires sped over the spikes and burst in an explosion of air and rubber. Nolan cried out in horror as he lost control of the car. He slammed his foot down onto the break pedal, but it was too late. The second set of tires hit the spikes and exploded just like the first. The Audi majestically rolled through the air, trapping its passengers within. It slammed down onto the roof and skidded across the tarmac, sending out a shower of sparks. It came to a halt at the edge of the road, overlooking an forty foot grass slope leading down to another capillary of the Trent river. The three passengers dangled from their seats, held in place by their seatbelts, all completely in shock.  
"Everybody okay?" Nolan groaned.  
"What the hell happened?" Kelsey demanded.  
Suddenly the Audi began to tilt forward. Taylor looked out of the windscreen and saw the slope in front of them.  
"Oh my God," she whispered, "Everybody hang onto something!"  
The vehicle moved forward and began to fall down the slope like a snowball, rolling over as it went. The car became more and more damaged with parts of the body work breaking off as it rolled down the slope, the passengers screaming as it went. The car reached the bottom of the slope, splashing into the shallow capillary before slamming into a tree. Kelsey slowly opened her eyes. He head was pounding and she could feel blood seeping from a painful wound on her thigh. The car had landed on its roof and she was being dangled from her seatbelt once again. She grasped it and unclipped herself. She fell from her seat and slammed down onto the cars roof. She groaned in pain and rolled onto her front. All the windows had shattered, sending glass fragments all over the interior. Kelsey winced as she crawled over the glass and climbed out of the back window. She sat up slowly and looked down at her thigh. She gasped in shock. A jagged shard of glass was sticking out of her thigh. She could feel the glass cutting into her muscle. She grasped the shard and took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to do was going to cause her excruciating pain. She wrenched the shard out of her leg and screamed as she felt pain searing through her body. Blood began to gush out of her wound. She threw the shard away into the trees in anger. She clasped her hand to the wound, trying to stem the blood flow. A hand grabbed her by the shoulder. She cried out in shock, spinning around, seeing DI Taylor standing behind her.  
"Are you alright?" she asked.  
She slowly nodded, looking up at the police officer. Her sleeve had been ripped off and there was a deep gash on her shoulder. She knelt beside Kelsey and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and tightly wrapped it around the wound on Kelsey's thigh. Kelsey winced from the pain and glared up at Taylor.  
"Sorry," she said, "But that wound needed pressure on it."  
She turned back to the upturned Audi and looked in through the window, seeing Nolan hanging from his seat, unconscious with blood dripping off his body.  
"Nolan?!" Taylor yelled.  
The senior police officer did not move.  
"Is he dead?" Kelsey asked.  
Taylor limped forward and shook her head, "No, he's breathing."  
She reached inside the car and tired to unclip his seatbelt, but it was jammed. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a flick knife. She turned back to Kelsey, "Call for help."  
Kelsey nodded and pulled out her Smartphone, but saw that there was no signal. Taylor grabbed the seatbelt and began slicing through it with her knife. There was a ripping noise as the material tore under Nolan's weight. The old man crashed onto the roof of the car with a thud. Taylor grabbed him by the arm and heaved him out of the Audi and rolled him onto his back. Nolan had a jagged piece of metal sticking out of his ribcage. She turned round to Kelsey, "Call an ambulance for Christ's sake!"  
"I can't get a signal!" Kelsey yelled.  
Taylor pointed back up the slope, "Climb up there!"  
Kelsey nodded and climbed to her feet just as Nolan awoke with a start.  
"What the hell happened?" he croaked.  
"Someone spiked up," Taylor responded hurriedly.  
"Help me up," Nolan ordered.  
"Sir, you're wounded," Taylor told him, "You should rest until help gets here."  
"Now!"  
Taylor nodded and put his arm around her shoulders, she turned to Kelsey again, "Help me!"  
Kelsey nodded and rushed to Nolan's side. Together the two women pulled Nolan to his feet. He leant back against the Audi and sheepishly touched his wound before wincing.  
"Fuckers," he growled.  
"I'll go get help," Kelsey offered.  
She moved away from the two of them, but Nolan signalled for them to stop.  
"Shut up!" he grunted, "Can you hear that?"  
The other two listened intently and heard a rustling in the bushes.  
"What is that?" Kelsey asked.  
Suddenly a figure erupted out of the bushes. Kelsey instantly recognised the black robes and the mask of those of the Ghostface killer. He leapt at Nolan, his trademark knife in hand. Nolan had no time to react as the killer thrust the knife through the air, stabbing it into his shoulder. The blade easily sliced through his skin and flesh. Nolan moaned in pain and crumpled to the floor. The killer spun around and saw Kelsey and Taylor staring at him in shock. Taylor fumbled for her flick knife, but the killer was too fast. He slashed the knife across her throat. The police officer stumbled backward in shock, dropping her own knife to the floor. The killer looked at her, knowing he had defeated her. Taylor slowly turned to look at Kelsey. The blade had sliced through her skin, severing her trachea and oesophagus and all the veins and arteries in her neck. Blood was pouring out at an uncontrollable speed. Kelsey clasped her hands to her mouth as Taylor tried to walk toward her. Taylor opened her mouth, but blood gushed out of her jaw.  
"Run," she gurgled.  
Kelsey watched as the woman fell face first down onto the floor where she lay in a pool of her own blood. Kelsey looked at the killer and saw him looking down at his work. She knew he was smiling beneath he mask. He slowly looked up at her. She turned and sprinted away from the Audi and the two police officers, the killer quickly gave chase. Her leg wound seared with pain, but Kelsey knew she could not stop, she had to keep running or she would be brutally killed like Nolan and Taylor. She passed tree after tree and peered over her shoulder. The killer was nowhere to be seen. Did he give up? Kelsey stopped running and leant behind an enormous oak tree to catch her breath. She panted as her heart raced. She pulled out her phone again, but saw that she still had no signal. She heard rustling form the other side of the tree and quickly shielded the light from her phone. She slowly peered out from behind the tree and saw the killer creeping through the woods looking for her. He slowly began to turn and Kelsey leapt back behind her cover. Her heart was racing and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up on end. She could hear the killer's footsteps. He was just a few inches away from her on the other side of the tree. She had two choices , she could either stay behind the tree and hope she would not be found, or she could make a run for it and hope the killer wouldn't catch her. Either choice could end with her death, but they also both had chances of succeeding. Kelsey looked down at the floor and made her mind up. She was going to run. She peered around the tree once again, but saw the killer right in front of her. She cried out in shock as he threw her to the floor. She looked up as he raised his knife into the air. She thought all hope was lost. She thought her life had reached its end. Suddenly Nolan leapt through the air and tackled the killer to the floor. Kelsey gasped in shock. She thought he was dead.  
"RUN!" Nolan screamed.  
Kelsey leapt to her feet and sprinted away into the night. Nolan wrapped his hands around the killer's neck, cutting off his air supply. Nolan's face was twisted with rage, "YOU THINK YOU CAN STAB ME AND GET AWAY WITH IT?! I'LL KILL YOU!"  
The killer fumbled for his knife, but could not find it. Then he saw the piece of metal sticking out of Nolan's ribcage and grasped it and began twisting it. The police officer screamed in pain, but would not release his grip on the killer's neck. The killer grabbed the metal and pulled it out of Nolan's body, followed by a fountain of blood, but still the old man would not give up. The killer had only one option left. He used the metal as a knife and stabbed it into Nolan's ribcage again. The DCI screwed his face up in pain and finally let go of the killer's neck. The killer kicked him backwards and Nolan fell to the forest floor, crawling on his hands and knees, desperately trying to crawl away from the killer. The killer looked down at the dying man, but took no pity. He raised the piece of metal into the air and stabbed it through the back of Nolan's neck with such force that it severed his spinal chord and poked out of his open mouth followed by a stream of blood. Nolan's limp body collapsed to the floor and lay still. Kelsey stopped to catch her breath again, leaning against a tree. The pain from her leg was excruciating. She looked down at the handkerchief covering her wound and saw it dripping with blood. She desperately needed medical attention for her wound or she would pass out from blood loss. She already regretted leaving Nolan. They had the killer outnumbered, they could have overwhelmed him and unmasked him. She should have stayed and helped, but instead she chose to flee. Now she had no idea whether Nolan was dead or alive. Suddenly hands grabbed her from behind. She cried out as the killer covered her mouth with his hand. She tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. Kelsey rejoiced as a brilliant idea leapt into her mind. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the stun gun that she always carried on her person. She turned it on and pressed it against the killer's hand. There was a crack of electricity as it coursed through the killer's veins. He stumbled backward, releasing Kelsey. She spun around and pressed the stun gun into his chest. There was an explosion of electricity as the killer was thrown off his feet to the floor where he lay still, his robes smoking slightly. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at the killer's body. She wiped the sweat off her brow and turned, beginning to walk away, but after just a few paces she stopped. She needed to find the killer's identity because by the time the authorities arrived, he would be gone. She turned once again and crept toward the killer. She knelt beside him and slowly reached for his mask, holding the stun gun tightly in her other hand. Her fingers brushed the mask. Suddenly the killer drove him knife up into her chest. Kelsey dropped the stun gun, gasping as the blade pierced her flesh. She gazed down at the killer's hand as he held the blade. She could feel nothing but pain, her face was screwed up and tears were rolling down her cheeks. The killer sat up and pulled her into a hug, pushing the blade further and further into her body until it reached the hilt. Blood trickled from the corner for Kelsey's mouth and dropped onto the killer's shoulder. The killer pulled his knife out of her body and threw her to the ground where she slammed down onto the muddy grass. The killer climbed to his feet and looked down at her as she reached for her wound. He pocketed his knife and marched away into the night, leaving her to die alone. Kelsey tried to sit up, but could not, the pain was too great. Blood gushed out of her two wounds as it got harder and harder for her to breathe. She gulped as blood saturated the ground around her and looked up at the cloudy sky. The moon and stars were invisible beneath the cold, black cloud. She could feel the life draining from her body. She set her head back on the grass and waited for death to take her.

Chapter Twenty  
Jackson sat beside Liam's hospital bed as the young man stared at the ceiling, his face twisted with shock.  
"My tutor told me about the Steyning Massacre," Liam said, "He said it could be happening here and that I probably already know the killer."  
"Do you think he's right?" Jackson asked, "Do you think you know the killer?"  
Liam shrugged, "Maybe. But these people are my friends. Why would they want to hurt us?"  
"The world's a pretty fucked up place," Jackson told him, "People do all sorts of crazy fucked up shit."  
Liam groaned, "I guess there's Leah's boyfriend."  
"Why is he a suspect?"  
"Because he's a total cunt!" Liam exclaimed, "He's controlling and jealous and he had a very short temper."  
Jackson nodded, "He could be."  
He looked around and saw Harwood outside the room on his phone. The young police officer looked shocked as he was informed of something. Jackson's heart began to race. He knew something was wrong. He turned back to Liam, "I'll be right back."  
He leapt to his feet and marched to the door, wrenching it open.  
"Okay, thank you," Harwood muttered before hanging up the phone.  
He slowly rubbed his weary eyes.  
"What's wrong?" Jackson asked.  
"DCI Nolan's car was attacked on the way to the hotel," Harwood sighed.  
The colour drained from the author's face and every hair on his body stood up on end. He tried to say something, but there was a knot in his throat.  
Harwood looked up at him, "Kelsey's alive. She's very badly injured but she's alive."  
Jackson had to lean against the wall or he would have keeled over. He breathed a sigh of relief.  
"What about Nolan and Taylor?" he asked.  
Harwood slowly shook his head, "They didn't make it."  
The doors to the Accident and Emergency department shot open and two paramedics rushed in, pushing a metal trolley with a pale, weak woman laying on it.  
"KELSEY!" Jackson exclaimed.  
He rushed to his friend's side and she peered up at him with squinted eyes.  
"I'm sorry," she wheezed.  
Jackson could barely speak due to the shock.  
"We need to get her to surgery now!" a doctor yelled.

Jackson stood in an observation room and watched as a group of surgeons desperately tried to save Kelsey's life. He felt physically sick. She shouldn't have even been there. It was his fault that she was in harm's way. He should have made sure that she didn't come with him. Now she was on death's door and the blame lay solely with him. He did not think he would be able to cope if he lost anyone else close to him. His hands were shaking as he hoped the surgeons would be able to save her. He could do nothing but stare at Kelsey's unconscious face. He watched in horror as the surgeons stopped. They solemnly moved toward the door and exited. Jackson's skin began to crawl as one of the doctor's moved toward him.  
"I'm very sorry," the surgeon sighed, "She has very serious internal bleeding. There's nothing we can do. If we had gotten to her sooner-"  
Jackson ran his fingers through his hair, "How long does she have?"  
"Not long," the surgeon told him remorsefully.  
"Can I see her?"  
"I don't think that will be a good idea," the surgeon told him, "She's still under anaesthesia and-"  
Jackson grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall, "Let me see her!"  
"Alright, you can see her!" the surgeon said as Jackson slowly released him."  
Jackson barged past him, bursting into the surgery. He moved over to the bed and looked down at Kelsey as tears began to form in his eyes. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair. Her eyes slowly opened and she gazed up at him, "Hey."  
He forced a smile, "The doctors say you're going to be just fine."  
"Liar," she breathed.  
"I'm sorry Kelsey."  
She reached out and grasped his hand, "Don't blame yourself. I chose to come up here."  
"I should have stopped you!" Jackson grimaced, "I should have made sure you stayed with Alice."  
"It's not your fault," she told him soothingly.  
Tears began to pour down his cheeks, "I'm going to miss you Kelsey."  
"I know," she nodded, "I'm going to miss you too."  
Jackson wiped the tears away from his face and sniffed.  
"Promise me one more thing?" she asked.  
"Anything!"  
"Catch this fucker!" she growled, "Catch him and make him pay."  
"I will," he promised, "I will."  
"Thank you," she breathed.  
"For what?"  
"For being my friend."  
Jackson could not stop himself from sobbing. He knelt beside the surgical table and kissed her on the forehead. Her eyes slowly closed and she let out a long sigh.  
"Kelsey?" he asked.  
Her heart rate monitor reached zero and let out a long, dull beep signalling her heart had stopped. Jackson exploded with tears and cradled Kelsey's head. He slowly let go off her and got to his feet, peering down at her cold, but peaceful body. He lashed out, his foot slamming into the side of the heart rate monitor, throwing it through the air. He slowly turned and grasped the white sheet that lay across Kelsey and slowly pulled it up and over her head, covering her. He turned away and stumbled out of the door seeing Harwood looking at him solemnly.  
"I'm so sorry Jackson," he groaned.  
"Don't," Jackson groaned, "Just don't. I'm done."  
He turned and marched away from the police officer.  
"You can't leave!" Harwood yelled, "I still need you! You can't leave!"  
Jackson ignored him and marched out of the hospital and into the cold night air. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning and the sun would soon begin to come up. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his carton of cigarettes. He opened it and pulled one out, sticking it between his lips. He slipped his lighter out of his pocket and lit the end of the cigarette and breathed in deeply before blowing a column of smoke out of his lungs. He stopped and stared up into the starry sky. He did not believe in God as he was a firm atheist, but after losing the people he loved he found himself wishing that there was some form of life after death so he could see them again. He threw his cigarette to the floor and watched as it slowly burnt away. It was a stupid thought. There was no higher power. Kelsey was dead. He would never see her again. He wiped tears from his eyes and set off into the darkness. He was leaving Stoke behind. Never to return. He was leaving the killer behind. Never to be thought about again.

Chapter Twenty-One  
The sun slowly rose the next morning as if it were too was saddened by the death of Doctor Kelsey Welch. Alice Lidbetter slept alone in her armchair in her house with her plasma screen television switched on. She snored loudly as she slept. She awoke with a start and slowly rubbed her weary eyes. She checked her watch. It was already eight o'clock. Usually she would have already been on her morning run. It was certainly not like her to oversleep. It was not like her to get more than four hours sleep in one night. She looked up at the television and saw Kelsey beaming down at her through the screen.  
"Kelsey?" Alice whispered.  
Her friend grinned, "Hey Alice."  
Alice rubbed her eyes, believing that she must be dreaming. She looked up at the screen again, but Kelsey was still there. Alice stared at her in confusion, "What the hell is going on?!"  
"He needs you Alice," Kelsey told her.  
"Who needs me?" Alice demanded.  
"Jackson does," Kelsey responded.  
Her smile slowly began to fade and tears began forming in the corners of her eyes.  
"He needs you now more than ever," Kelsey told her.  
"What about you?" Alice asked.  
"I can't help him anymore."  
The colour began to drain from Kelsey's smooth skin as her expression turned to one of fear.  
"I'm sorry Alice."  
Her skin slowly began to crack as if it were made of glass. Alice could only watch in horror, too petrified to move from her armchair. Slowly Kelsey's skin began to blacken as if it were made of ash.  
"Oh my God," Alice breathed.  
Suddenly a great fire erupted around Kelsey, but the woman did not fight her doom. Alice's eyes widened in shock as the fire consumed her friend. The television screen began to crack. Alice could feel the heat from the flames. The glass shattered and the flames soared into the front room engulfing Alice's armchair. Alice screamed as her skin was incinerated. She tried to fight it, but could not. She leapt to her feet and tired to run, but the flames were too hot and she could feel her own flesh roasting around her.

Alice sat up screaming. She looked around her, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw that she was still in her armchair. She peered down at her hands. They were fine, her skin hadn't melted away and her flesh remained uncooked. She looked up at the television screen and saw a reported for the BBC news standing in front of the Stoke City hospital. Alice could barely hear it and reached out for the remote control, turning the volume up.  
"This morning the death toll for these horrific murders reaches six," he explained, "In the early hours of this morning two police officers were murdered as they escorted television personality Doctor Kelsey Welch to her accommodation. We have been informed that whilst surgeons did their best to save her, Doctor Welch passed away at approximately four o'clock this morning."  
Alice's heart sank and her mouth dropped open. The remote slipped out of her grasp and clattered to the floor. She slipped off the armchair and sat on the cold wooden floor, her head in her hands. She was devastated. Kelsey was dead. She had to make sure Jackson was alright. He could be injured and she had no idea. She pulled out her Smartphone and quickly dialled Jackson's number and pressed the phone to her ear, waiting for him to answer. To her horror, the call went straight to his answering machine. Her hands began trembling as she realised that her best friend was facing off against one of the most dangerous serial killers of all time on his own.

Chapter Twenty-Two  
Jackson Jones sat in the driver's seat of Kelsey's Land Rover as he sped out of Stoke down a motorway. He stared out of the windscreen blankly, not paying attention to the road as he thought of nothing but Kelsey. He wanted nothing more than to be back in Steyning spending as much time as he could with Alice, the last friend he had alive.  
"Where the hell are you going?" a voice asked from beside him.  
He looked around and saw Kelsey sitting in the passenger seat. He groaned, "Oh God, not you."  
"You're just going to leave those kids to fend for themselves?" Kelsey demanded.  
"You're dead Kelsey!" Jackson yelled, "What the hell am I supposed to do?!"  
"I just died for these kids!" Kelsey told him, "Stay and catch the killer. Do your job!"  
"My job?!" he yelled, "It's not my bloody job!"  
"You bet it is!" Kelsey told him angrily, "You chose to come up here. You made it your responsibility!"  
"It's not my responsibility!"  
"You're just going to standby and watch as these kids are slaughtered? That's not the Jackson I knew."  
"I'm not the Jackson you knew!" he exclaimed, "I have lost everyone that I love!"  
"Do you want Liam to lose everyone he loves too?" she asked, "Do you want this same thing to happen all over again?"  
"How can I face the killer, knowing that he killed you?" he asked.  
He sniffed as tears once again flooded down his cheeks, "I just don't want anyone else to die."  
"Then you know what to do," Kelsey smiled.  
"I don't know whether I can."  
There was no answer.  
"Kelsey?" he asked.  
He looked around, but Kelsey Welch was gone.  
Chapter Twenty-Three  
Officer Matt Harwood sat at his desk in the police station typing his latest report at the computer screen. He was tired, having not slept for over twenty-four hours. He yawned and rubbed his tired eyes. Harwood looked up and saw his uniformed colleagues stepping into the room, their faces solemn. They looked as if they had no idea what to do with themselves. Harwood got to his feet and marched toward them.  
"What's going on?" he asked.  
"Nolan and Taylor are dead," on of his colleagues grimaced, "We all know about these situations. Police Officers don't last long."  
Harwood looked at them all in shock, "You're kidding me right? You're men of the law. You will do whatever's necessary despite the risk!"  
"We don't have a DCI or a DI," another officer argued, "There's no one in charge."  
"Yes there is," a deep voice announced from the doorway.  
The officers of the law spun around and saw Jackson Jones standing before them. He nodded, "Before he died, Nolan promoted Harwood to Detective Inspector. He's in charge now."  
Harwood's colleagues spun around and stared at him, "Is this true?"  
He slowly nodded.  
"You're in charge?" one of the officers scoffed, "You look about twelve!"  
Harwood raised his eyebrows at the officer before another caught his attention, "What do you want us to do?"  
"Go door to door," Harwood ordered, "Try and get us some information that we can use to find this bastard."  
No on moved.  
"GO!"  
The dozen officers slowly shuffled toward the door. Harwood nodded at Jackson, "Thank you."  
The author ignored his gratitude, "Get all the kids together. We need to explain everything to them."

Hours later, Jackson and Harwood stood at the front of a briefing room within the Stoke City Police Station. Sitting before them were a group of University students who were all looking confused. Liam, Leah, George, Grace, Alex, Dylan and Harry had all been summoned to the police station to be warned about the massacre.  
"What the hell are we doing here?" Alex demanded.  
"You're here so we can explain-" Jackson began.  
"Explain what?!" Alex growled.  
"If you let him bloody finish then you'll know!" Harwood snarled.  
Alex glared at him, but did not speak again.  
"You've all seen the Scream films right?" Jackson asked.  
"The what?" Leah asked, her eyebrows raised.  
"Jesus," Jackson sighed, "None of them have seen Scream. It's terrifying to know that this is all based on my life."  
Harwood looked at him, his eyebrows now raised, "Jackson, you alright there?"  
Jackson nodded before continuing, "Twenty-four years ago a group of my friends were murdered. In the end it turned out the killers were two of my best friends."  
"What does this have to do with anything?" George grunted.  
"Because the killer now is wearing the same mask!" Harwood told him, his voice raised, "The guy that's killing your friends is basing his murders on what happened to Jackson."  
"That makes him an expert?" Dylan scoffed, "You're insane. You survive this once twenty-four years ago."  
"No he didn't!" Harwood yelled, "He's survived this six times! Not once!"  
"Six times?!" Grace exclaimed.  
Jackson slowly nodded.  
"How?" Harry asked.  
"Because I knew the rules," he told them.  
"Rules?" Liam asked, "You never mentioned any rules."  
"The rules to survive a horror film," the author explained.  
"This is bullshit," Alex yelled, "You're full of bullshit."  
He leapt to his feet and scowled down at his girlfriend, "You coming?"  
Leah slowly shook her head, "I think we should stay."  
"Seriously?!" Alex yelled, "You're going to stay with these insane bastards?!"  
"She's chosen to stay!" Liam snarled, "Why don't you just fuck off?"  
Alex grabbed Liam by the neck and pulled his fist back, ready to punch him.  
"ALEX!" Leah gasped.  
Alex threw his fist forward toward Liam's nose, but Harwood leapt forward and grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. He cried out in pain. Harwood dragged him toward the door, "If you don't want to listen that's fine."  
He wrenched the door open and threw the young man out of the briefing room where he stumbled and fell to the floor. He glared back up at Harwood, "This isn't over!"  
"Yes it is," Harwood grunted, "Get out of I'll put you in a cell."  
He slammed the door in Alex's face and turned back to the others as they sat, shocked by what had just happened.  
"I'm so sorry," Leah gasped, "I should go after him."  
As she got to her feet, Liam grasped her forearm, "Don't. He's an arsehole. Please stay."  
"I'll go after him," George offered, "This is all bullshit anyway."  
He slowly moved toward the door.  
"Are you sure you want to do this?"  
George stopped and smiled at the expert, "Go fuck yourself."  
He barged past him and disappeared out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  
"Charming," Jackson muttered under his breath.  
"What are these rules?" Harry asked.  
Jackson sighed and leant back against the wall, crossing his arms, "You know what, the rules don't matter anymore."  
"So why are we here?" Dylan asked.  
"The rules don't matter anymore," Jackson grimaced, "This is a whole new generation. I don't matter. Probably the only way to survive is if you're gay."  
"Alright for you then Liam," Harry chuckled.  
"If anyone still cares I'm not actually gay," Liam groaned.  
"Listen!" Jackson told them all, "Just because the rules don't apply anymore doesn't mean I can't still help."  
"How can you possibly help?" Leah asked, "Six people are dead."  
"I'm going to help catch the killer so that no one else has to die."  
"Oh yeah?" Dylan scoffed, "How are you going to do that?"  
"By asking who you think the killer is."  
"Alex," Liam grunted before thinking.  
Leah turned to her best friend in shock, "What?!"  
"I'm sorry Leah," he groaned, "But your boyfriend is a psycho!"  
"He's a bit aggressive," Leah protested, "But he's not a serial killer!"  
"He seems to fit the billing," Harwood shrugged, "He seems volatile enough."  
"Come on guys!" Leah yelled, "Alex isn't a killer! I know him! You all know him!"  
"Leah he's never been nice to us," Grace whispered, "He's only nice to you. He's never even liked us."  
"The long con," Jackson nodded, "He treats you well to get you on his side and when you trust him, that's when he strikes."  
"You guys can't seriously be saying Alex is a killer!" she screamed, "Dylan, Harry back me up here!"  
They slowly lowered their heads.  
"Sorry Leah," Harry muttered, "But out of all of us, he's the only suspect."  
Leah leapt to her feet, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I can't believe you think Alex killed Georgia, Amy and Matt!"  
Her friends all sat in silence, ashamed of accusing their friend of murder.  
"You're all wankers," she sobbed.  
She ran toward the door and sprinted out of the room. Liam groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.  
"Go after her," Jackson told him, "Make sure she's alright."  
He nodded and chased after his best friend. He caught up to her just as she was exiting the police station.  
"Leah wait!" he called.  
She stopped and slowly turned around. She stared at her with her tearful eyes.  
"What do you want?" she sniffed.  
"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I didn't mean for this to happen."  
"Tell me you don't believe it," Leah demanded, "Please tell me you don't think Alex is the killer."  
He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and gazed down at the floor. Leah glared at him, "Great friend you are!"  
She turned and began to walk away. Liam leapt forward and grabbed her arm, "Leah wait!"  
"Get off me!" she screamed.  
She pulled her arm out of his grip and stared at him with pure hatred in her eyes, "We're no friends anymore."  
She turned and walked away from him.  
"Leah!" he pleaded, "Please don't go."  
She turned and slapped him on the cheek so hard that he stumbled backward.  
"Fuck you," she growled.  
She sprinted away from him across the car park. Liam collapsed backward and sat on the curb, slowly rubbing his painful cheek. He looked up at the sky which was covered in dense white cloud. He closed his eyes and wished he could take back the past five minutes of his life. He had just ruined his friendship with Leah. He opened his eyes and looked around him. Large snowflakes were falling from the sky in a flurry. He held his palm out and caught one, he felt the icy substance melt from the heat of his skin. Ever since he was a child he had loved the snow. Whenever his hometown was covered in a thick layer of snow he rejoiced, which could be explained that he got the day off school, but mainly because the snow gave him a much needed time out. His childhood was dominated by his parents fighting so when the snow fell, Liam was able to go out and enjoy it in peace and forget all his troubles in the world. He smiled. He felt as if the universe was telling him to let his troubles fade away. He heard the door open behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Dylan and Harry walking out of the police station. He leapt to his feet, "Where the hell are you guys going?"  
"We're going home," Dylan told him.  
"What?!" he exclaimed, "Why?"  
"If we're going to die, then I don't want to be locked in there," Harry told him, "I want to do something I want to do."  
"Come on guys!" Liam protested, "The killer's after all of us!"  
"He's not mate!" Dylan yelled, "As far as I can tell he's only after you! SO I'm staying the hell away from you!"  
Liam's heart sank, his friends were abandoning him, he looked at them with fear in his eyes, "What?"  
"I'm sorry dude," Harry told him, "Dylan's right. You're dangerous. We can't be around you until this is all over."  
The two of them slowly started to walk away across the car park as Liam watched. The door opened again and Grace stepped out into the morning air. Liam looked around at her and groaned, "Not you too Grace."  
She looked at him with a remorseful expression, "I'm sorry Liam, but I'm scared."  
"Then stay, please," he groaned, "It's not safe out there alone."  
"I just want to go back to my room," she told him, "Have a shower and go to bed. I haven't slept in over a day and I have a terrible hangover."  
"Please don't go," he whispered.  
"I'm sorry," she told him, "I'll call you later."  
She too began to walk away from him, leaving him standing by himself, feeling more alone than he had ever been. His friends had left him at the mercy of a serial killer. The door opened for a third time and Jackson stepped out and stood beside the young man. He grabbed Liam's shoulder sympathetically, "Come on, let's go for lunch."  
"I'm not hungry," Liam grunted.  
"You haven't eaten in two days," Jackson told him, "Yes you are."

Just a few minutes later, the two of them sat in a small pub in the centre of Stoke. Each had a pint of ice cold Coca Cola sitting on the table in front of them as they waited for their food to arrive. The pub's heating had kicked in and the air was warm which was a great contrast to the snowy atmosphere outside.  
"Was she nice?" Liam asked.  
Jackson looked up at him, "Excuse me?"  
"Was she nice? Your friend."  
Jackson sat back in his chair and stared blankly down at the table, "When I first met her I thought she was just someone trying to cash in on the murders. I even thought she was the killer at one point, but as time passed she exceeded my expectations. She risked her life to save me on countless occasions."  
He paused, remembering the time he had spent with Kelsey. He smiled, "Yeah. She was nice. She was one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet. She always put other's needs ahead of her own."  
"I'm sorry," Liam grimaced, "That she had to die because of us."  
Jackson' eyes began to cloud over with tears again. He looked at Liam firmly, "She would have been honoured to have given her life to catch this bastard."  
He chuckled to himself, "She'd kick the shit out of me if she knew how upset I was about her death."  
A waitress walked over and placed a plate of full English breakfast in front of each of them. She smiled at them before walking away. Liam picked up his cutlery and dug into his plate of food. His stomach was rumbling and had been for days. He had not thought about how hungry he was until Jackson had pointed it out. He hadn't eaten in two days and was the hungriest he had ever been.  
"So you like Leah then?" Jackson asked.  
"What?" Liam gasped as he gulped.  
"Leah," Jackson repeated, "You're in love with her."  
Liam opened his mouth to deny it, but Jackson cut him off, "Don't deny it. I've seen the way you look at her. How long has it been?"  
"Since the first time I met her," Liam groaned, "But she thought I was gay and she was dating that prick Alex."  
"Ouch," Jackson winced, "Don't worry, I know what its like to have your heart ripped out by the one you love."  
"Who?"  
"My ex-wife," Jackson grunted.  
"You were married?!"  
The author slowly nodded, "But she left me for some other guy when I needed her most and took my son with her."  
"You have a son?!" Liam gasped.  
Jackson looked up at him, "Are you just going to keep repeating everything I say?"  
Liam blushed, "Sorry."  
"She was the only woman I ever truly loved," Jackson told him, "When she left me I felt like my life was over. We are well and truly in the same boat my friend."

Leah burst into Alex's dorm room minutes later, her skin ice cold, her hair covered in snow. Her eyes were red from crying. He looked down at her, his lip trembling with anger.  
"Please tell me its not true," Leah sobbed, "Please tell me you're not the killer."  
"They've turned you against me haven't they?!" he screamed.  
"Answer the question Alex!" she warned him.  
"I fucking trusted you!" he yelled, "And this is how you repay me?!"  
"Why are you ignoring the question?"  
"Don't you dare," he growled.  
"Are you the fucking killer?!"  
Alex lashed out, slapping her across the cheek. The force from the blow threw her backward onto his bed. It seemed to disorientate her as she gazed up at him, realising what he had just done. He ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that!"  
He moved forward, his arms outstretched, but she pushed him away. She leapt to her feet and sprinted through the open door, sobbing as she went. Alex followed her to the doorway.  
"Leah wait!" he called.  
She was already out of earshot. Alex slammed the door in anger and in a fit of rage, punched a hole through the screen of his laptop. He collapsed against the desk, shards of glass sticking out of his knuckles as blood seeped out. This was all Liam's fault. He would make him pay. He was going to kill him.

Jackson and Liam had almost finished their meal by the time Liam's Smartphone began to ring. He looked down at the caller ID and saw that it was Leah. His heart raced as he eagerly answered and pressed the phone to his ear, "Leah, are you alright?"  
He could hear her sobbing on the other end of the phone and frowned, "Leah, what's wrong?"  
"Alex is the killer!" she cried.  
"How do you know?"  
"I confronted him and he didn't deny it!"  
The door to the pub burst open, but Liam ignored it, "Where are you? Did he hurt you?"  
"No," she sniffed, "I got away before he could."  
Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson saw someone watching them. He slowly turned his head and gulped.  
"Liam," he whispered.  
Liam ignored him and carried on listening to the distraught Leah.  
"LIAM!" Jackson yelled.  
"What?!" Liam exclaimed.  
He looked up and saw Alex panting in the door way, scowling at them.  
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Alex screamed.  
He sprinted forward and grabbed Liam by the neck, dragging him off the chair. Liam had no time to react as Alex choked him for the third time in twenty four hours. Alex threw his love rival down onto another table. The wood splintered and Liam went straight through it, slamming down onto the floor hard. He groaned and writher around in pain. Jackson leapt to his feet and dashed toward Alex, but the young man picked up Liam's half empty glass of Coca Cola and smashed it over the side of Jackson's head. Jackson's unconscious body tumbled to the floor covered in blood, glass and Cola. Alex saw Liam trying to pull himself to his feet. He dived through the air and tackled Liam to the floor and began punching him in the side of the head. He saw a shard of glass lying a few inches away and took it up in his hand, holding it high above him, ready to end Liam's life, but a strong hand grabbed him by the wrist. Alex looked up and saw Harwood glaring down at him.  
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Harwood boomed.  
He dragged Alex to his feet and put him in handcuffs, trapping his arms behind his back. He knelt down and helped Liam to his feet.  
"Are you alright?" the police officer asked.  
Liam spat out blood and nodded. Jackson groaned and slowly sat up. He had a cut on the edge of his hairline and blood was seeping out. Harwood rushed forward and pulled him up.  
"It's lucky you got here when you did," Jackson winked, "I was just about to kick his arse."  
Alex scoffed, "Yeah right old man!"  
Jackson spun around in fury and punched Alex in the centre of the face, instantly breaking his nose. Alex flew backward into the heavy wooden bar and crumpling into an unconscious heap on the floor. Liam and Harwood looked at Jackson in shock.  
"Good news is that he got what he deserved," Jackson growled.  
"What's the bad news?" Liam asked.  
"My hand is bloody killing me," Jackson winced, cradling his sore knuckled.  
Harwood smiled, "I'll get you an icepack."

Half an hour later, Jackson and Liam sat in Nolan's office, waiting for Harwood to finish filing his paperwork for Alex's arrest. Jackson held an icepack to both his knuckles and the cut on his head.  
"You pack a mean punch," Liam told him.  
A smile slowly crept across Jackson's face, "Comes with years of practise."  
He leant back in his chair and looked down at his cracked knuckles, "I didn't realise how much I miss punching people."  
"I used to get into fights all the time," Liam muttered.  
The memories of his troubled childhood flashed before his eyes as did the amount of fights he used to get into. Harwood pushed the door open and stepped inside, "You two alright?"  
They both nodded.  
"The paperwork's all done," Harwood told them, "Jesus Jackson how hard can you punch? The kid's babbling about how Leah's dead."  
Liam sat up, "He said something about Leah?"  
"Don't worry," Jackson told him, "She's fine."  
"How do you know?"  
"Because we haven't killed her yet," Harwood smiled.  
Liam's heart stopped, "What?!"  
Jackson chuckled to himself, "How thick are you? We're the killers."  
Liam looked at the two of them in shock as all the colour drained from his face. He shook his head, "You can't be."  
Liam leapt off his chair and dashed for the door, but Harwood grabbed him from behind and twisted his arm behind his back.  
"Get him JJ," Harwood laughed.  
Jackson pulled a knife out from his belt and got to his feet and grinned at Liam, "You know you had potential to join us, but you're too trusting."  
He rushed forward and thrust the knife up into Liam's stomach. Liam's face screwed up in pain as the blade sliced up through his flesh. He had never felt anything more painful. He was completely immobilised by the pain as his attacker slowly twisted the blade.  
"Hurts doesn't it?" Jackson growled.  
Liam could not even cry out for help as the pain was too great. Jackson pulled the knife out before immediately stabbing Liam again. The two men began laughing at the expression of pain on the young man's face. Harwood released his grip on Liam's shoulders and he tumbled forward, laying still in a pool of his own blood.

Liam woke up with a start, his face covered in a cold sweat. Jackson and Harwood looked down at him worriedly, "Are you alright?"  
Liam leapt to his feet, "I need some air."  
He pushed past his elders and sprinted out of the police station.  
"What's up with him?" Harwood asked, "Bad dreams?"  
"I should go after him," Jackson muttered.  
He followed Liam out into the car park at the front of the police station. The snow was over a foot deep beneath his feet as he stepped out of the warmth and it was still falling heavily. He saw Liam leaning against the concrete wall smoking a cigarette.  
"Liam?" he asked.  
"Stay away from me!" Liam snarled.  
"I don't understand," Jackson shrugged, "We're trying to help you."  
"I can't trust you," Liam grunted.  
"You had a dream didn't you?"  
Liam nodded, "You and Harwood were the killers."  
"Then you know it was a dream," Jackson told him, "You know it wasn't real."  
"It felt real!" Liam screamed, "I can still feel your knife inside me and it hurt. It fucking hurt Jackson!"  
Jackson could see that Liam was breaking down and pulled him into a tight hug.  
"It's alright," he told him, "We're going to keep you safe."

Chapter Twenty-Four  
Dylan and Harry lay beneath he bridge as the snow continued to fall. they both had Marijuana cigarettes in hand and lay on their backs, staring up at the underside of the bridge which gave them cover from the blizzard of snow. Dylan looked at the ever growing wall of snow either side of them.  
"We're going to be snowed in soon," he laughed.  
"That would be hilarious," Harry chuckled.  
Harry's Smartphone buzzed inside the pocket of his jeans. He reached in and pulled it out, looking down at the screen.  
"It's from Grace," he announced.  
"What does it say?" Dylan asked.  
"Alex has been charge with the murders," he explained.  
Dylan groaned, "We shouldn't have left Liam like that should we?"  
"You basically called him the Angel of Death!"  
"He's still our friend though," Dylan sighed, "We should still be there for him no matter what."  
"I doubt we're friends with you after what you said today."  
"Shit," Dylan groaned, "We finish up here, go get Grace and apologize to Liam. Deal?"  
Harry nodded in agreement, "Deal."  
Dylan threw the end of his cigarette away and clambered onto his knees, "You coming?"  
"I'll meet you at Grace's," his friend replied, "I'm not done here."  
"Whatever you say dude," Dylan smiled.  
He crawled out from underneath the bridge, covering himself in snow and disappearing into the blizzard. Harry lifted his cigarette to his lips and breathed in deeply, laying his head back on the cold grass. He breathed out a column of smoke and smiled to himself. He heard the wooden bridge creaking above him. His heart stopped. Whoever was walking across the bridge had stopped directly over him. He held his breath as he thought it could be a teacher who had smelt the drug on the air or worse it could be the killer. Harry brushed the thoughts out of his mind, knowing Alex had been charged with the murders. Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. Harry cried out in shock, spinning around half expecting to see the face of the killer, but instead his eyes fell on the face of Tom Hughes.  
"Tom?!" he exclaimed.  
Tom pointed to the cigarette in his hand, "Is that weed?"  
"No," Harry lied as he blushed.  
"Can I have some?" Tom asked.  
The student breathed a sigh of relief and handed it over to him, "Finish it mate."  
"Thanks," Tom smiled, "But we have an agreement not to tell anyone about this?"  
"Sure," Harry shrugged, "Have a good one."  
He crawled out from under the bridge, his hands and feet submerging in the freezing cold snow. He pulled himself to his feet and trudged through the ever growing snow toward the building with Grace's dorm room. He had only been walking for a few seconds and his clothes had been covered in the falling white stuff. He looked around in awe, this was the most snow he had ever seen. He would not be surprised if they were snowed in that night. He crossed his arms. He was only wearing a thin cotton jumper and the cold was beginning to get to him. He reached the door to Grace's hall building and burst through it. He panted and slowly brushed the snow off his body. He looked down at his shivering hands. His skin was bright pink and looked frostbitten. He groaned before breathing hot air on his hands before rubbing them together as he tried to warm them up.  
"I really need a pair of gloves," he muttered under his breath.  
He dashed up the staircase, taking them three at a time to the third floor where Grace's room was. He strode down the dimly lit corridor and reached her door. He knocked on her door, but it creaked open, someone having left it open. He feared the worst, the killer could have got to Grace before he could and she could be lying on the floor, a knife sticking out of her chest. Harry tried to tell himself that Alex was the killer and was in jail, but his fears overcame him. He gulped and pushed the door open, ready to face off against the killer, but he saw no one standing before him. He chuckled to himself. The room was empty. No Grace, no killer. He turned to leave, but heard a phone ringing from behind him. He peered over his shoulder and saw a Smartphone on the desk, vibrating as someone called it. He marched over to it and looked down at confusion. He recognised the phone, but it was not Grace's. It was Matt's. His heart raced as he slowly reached out for it. He looked down at the caller ID and gasped in horror as he saw that Matt's phone was being called from Georgia's phone. He slowly answered it and pressed the phone to his ear, "Hello?"  
Slowly the door to Grace's room was pushed shut without Harry's knowledge and the killer revealed himself hiding behind it. It one hand he held his glinting knife and in the other he held Georgia's phone. He slowly crept toward Harry who was facing the other way, staring out of the window as he held Matt's phone to his ear.  
"Hello?" Harry asked again.  
He took the phone away from his ear and looked down at it in confusion. He hung up and quickly redialled and waited. Georgia's phone in the killer's hand erupted into life, spitting out her ring tone. Harry spun around in horror and saw the killer standing directly behind him. The killer swung his knife hand toward Harry, but the young man leapt backward, the blade passing the skin on his neck by millimetres. The killer leapt forward, knocking Harry backward onto Grace's desk and thrust the knife down toward his chest. Harry's reflexes kicked in and he grabbed the killer's wrists, stopping the knife less than an inch above his heart.  
"Get the fuck off me you fucker!" Harry screamed.  
He lashed out with his foot, kicking the killer in the chest, pushing him backward. Harry leapt off the desk and sprinted for the door, but the killer pushed him. Harry lost his balance and stumbled into the wall, slamming his head against it. The killer pocketed his knife and grasped Harry by the collar and threw him across Grace's bedroom. Harry flew like a rag doll through the air before colliding with Grace's mirror. The glass shattered and Harry fell to his knees, groaning in pain. The killer marched toward him and grabbed hi again, picking his whole body up in the air. Harry was helpless as the killer threw him down onto Grace's desk. Harry hit the wood hard, smashing Grace's laptop. He rolled over in pain and slipped off the edge of the desk, tumbling to the floor. He opened his mouth to cry for help, but only blood dripped out. Every part of his body ached as if he had just been hit by a bus. Harry looked up and saw the killer draw his blade as he began to creep toward him. Harry knew he needed to do something quickly if he were to survive. He saw a shard of glass from the mirror lying in front of him and grasped it. The killer grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up, ready to slice his neck open, but Harry lashed out with the glass, stabbing the killer in the thigh. The killer cried out in agony and released Harry. He leapt to his feet and grabbed the killer by the neck and pushed him up against the wall, cutting off his air supply. Harry's face was twisted with rage as he gripped the killer so hard his knuckles were white.  
"This is for all the people you've killed!" Harry growled.  
But Harry had forgotten about the killer's blade in his hand. The killer thrust the knife up into Harry's side. The young man gasped in shock as the blade sliced through his ribcage as if it were made of paper. He felt the knife cutting through him and screwed his face up in pain, releasing his grip on the killer's neck. The killer pulled his blade out and dropped it to the floor before grabbing Harry by the neck and pushing him backward into the opposite wall. The killer lashed out with his fist, punching Harry in the nose before throwing him across the room once again. Harry slammed into the doors of Grace's wooden wardrobe, but there were too weak and splintered as he hit them. Harry groaned in pain as blood oozed out of the wound on his side. Harry looked up and saw the killer moving toward him. He tried to fight him off, but did not have enough strength as the killer grasped him by the collar and heaved him out of the wardrobe. Harry's vision began to blur as he stared at the killer's mask. He reached out, his fingers brushing the white plastic. He tried to grab it to pull it off, revealing the killer's identity, but before he could, the killer threw him across the room. Harry slammed into the window and the glass shattered. He plummeted through the air and landed in a mound of snow outside the window. Harry rolled onto his back and looked up at the window, but the killer was nowhere to be seen. Harry looked down at his wound and saw blood seeping out like a fountain. He grasped the brick wall next to him and pulled himself to his feet and leant back against it. He wheezed, the pain from his side was the worst he had ever felt. He knew he had to get as far away as he could. Grace and Dylan were probably already dead and he was next on the killer's list. The police station was not far away, he could probably make it before he passed out from the blood loss. He pushed himself off the wall and set off into the blizzard, blood dripping from his body and onto the snow. The colour drained from his face as he struggled to continue. Sweat poured down his cheeks as he limped through the mountains of snowflakes. His vision was worsening by the second and he could hardly stand, let alone walk. The cold was affecting him too. His skin was covered in Goosebumps and felt as if it had frozen stiff. He could already feel the life draining from his body. Each step he took felt like a mile. In that moment he realised he would not make it to the police station. He fell to his knees and panted. The knife must have punctured his lung as it was becoming difficult for him to breathe. In the distance he saw a group of students making their way across campus.  
"Help," Harry wheezed.  
But they could not hear him above the howling wind. His voice was barely audible. He looked down at the hand that was covering his wound and groaned as he saw blood seeping through his fingers. He fell backward and lay in the snow, staring up at the sky as snowflakes began falling onto his body. He smiled, the cold surroundings was beginning to numb the pain that he felt all through his body. He lay, hoping somebody would find him before he bled out. He tried to cover up his wound, but it was no use. Blood was gushing out too fast. Harry was left lying on his back, panting as the snow continued to fall.

Grace pushed her bedroom door open mere moments later and gasped in horror. Her room was in ruin, her wardrobe doors had been smashed open, her laptop was snapped in half, her mirror and the window had shattered and blood covered the carpet. She rushed over to the window and peered out of it and saw a trail of blood leading into the distance. She sprinted out of the room and back down the staircase to the front door where she ran into Dylan. He looked at her in shock.  
"Grace, what's wrong?" he asked.  
"Where's Harry?" she demanded.  
"I was meeting him at your place," he told her, "Why?"  
"I think he's been attacked," she exclaimed, "Come on!"  
The colour drained form his face as Grace sprinted outside. He quickly ran after her outside and the two of them dashed to the other side of the building, finding the trail of blood.  
"HARRY!" Grace screamed,  
They ran away from the building, using the trail of blood as a guide.  
"HARRY!" Dylan yelled.  
They stopped as they reached the end of the trail.  
"Where the hell is he?" Dylan panted.  
Grace looked around frantically. Her heart sank and her eyes widened in horror as she looked at the ground in front of them.  
"What?" Dylan asked.  
She pointed down at a mound of snow ahead of them. He followed her gaze and saw a foot sticking out of the snow. Dylan recoiled in horror.  
"Oh shit," he whispered.  
The two of them leapt forward and began to dig frantically at snow, knowing their friend was in serious danger.  
"Hold on Harry!" Grace yelled.  
Eventually they uncovered him. Grace screamed and leapt back in terror and Dylan groaned, tightly shutting his eyes. Harry's body was frozen stiff, his skin blue, his eyes staring blankly up at the sky, the snow around him being stained red with his blood. Dylan pulled a sobbing Grace away from the sight and pulled her into a tight hug as he peered down at his best friend's body. Harry Bushby was dead.  
Chapter Twenty-Five  
Jackson and Harwood stood in Nolan's office and looked out as Liam, Grace and Dylan sat in the waiting area, silently mourning their friend.  
"This is unacceptable!" Harwood exclaimed, "Seven people are dead!"  
"I know," Jackson groaned.  
"We have no leads!" the officer of the law yelled, "We have one suspect and someone else is killed when he's locked up! I thought you were an expert on this shit!"  
"You called me," Jackson said defensively, "I never said I was an expert! I just can to help in whatever way I can."  
"Well you haven't been much help so far!" Harwood snarled.  
He leant against the desk and sighed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm just so stressed. I don't want to be the guy that let this happen. We need more help."  
"From who?" Jackson asked.  
"The only other people that can and you know both of them."  
Jackson shook his head, "No. No way. They are staying away from all this! I'm making sure they're both safe."  
"Please," Harwood pleaded, "We need them."  
"There's no way I'm calling Alice!" Jackson yelled, "And besides how the hell did you find out about the other? I buried the fact that he was alive!"  
Harwood shrugged, "I'm good at hacking encrypted files."  
Jackson nodded, "Impressive. But that's not the point! I'm not bringing either of them here!"  
"Well you don't have a choice," a soft female voice said from behind them.  
The two of them spun around and saw Alice Lidbetter standing in the doorway.  
"ALICE?! Jackson exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing here?!"  
"I heard about Kelsey," she whispered, "You were right. I can't just stand by and let these kids die."  
Jackson marched over to her and tightly hugged her before deeply staring into her eyes, "You're a bloody idiot, but it's great to see you."  
Harwood moved forward and offered Alice his hand, "Ms Lidbetter, I'm Detective Inspector Matt Harwood. It's good to finally meet you."  
Alice nodded at him before looking back at Jackson, "Any suspects?"  
"We had one," Harwood announced, "But someone else was murdered whilst he was in his cell."  
The doors to the waiting area burst open and Leah sprinted inside, her cheeks covered in tears. She dashed over to her friends, "I heard about Harry! Was it Alex?"  
Liam shook his head, "Alex was in custody. It can't have been him."  
"Then who was it?" Leah murmured.  
Alice watched as the four students tried to hold back their tears.  
"So that's the new us then?" she asked.  
Jackson nodded, "Another of their friends was murdered about an hour ago. I bet they feel as bad as we did."  
Harwood stared at the four of them, "Where's that lanky one?"  
Jackson thought to himself, "What that Stokes kid? I haven't seen him since this morning. He followed Alex out of the station."  
"So he doesn't have an alibi to Bushby's murder?" Harwood asked.  
Jackson's eyes widened, "It looks like we have a new suspect."  
He dashed out of Nolan's office closely followed by Alice and Harwood and stopped beside the students. He looked down at the four of them, "Have any of you seen George Stokes today?"  
They thought to themselves before they all shook their heads.  
"Not since this morning," Liam replied.  
Jackson nodded, "I didn't think so, thanks guys."  
Jackson turned to Harwood, "Stay here with this lot, I'll go find this guy."  
"I can't let you go alone," Harwood told him.  
"He's not," Alice announced, "I'm going with him."  
Harwood sighed, "Fine. Follow me."  
He lead the two of them back into the office where he marched over to Nolan's desk and opened the bottom drawer and fumbled around inside.  
"Nolan was a secretive man," Harwood explained, "Only he and Taylor could come in here or we'd be fired, but the whole office new her kept this in here."  
Harwood pulled a pistol out of the drawer and offered it to Jackson, "Do you know how to use one of these?"  
Jackson took the weapon and put the safety on before checking how many bullets were in the magazine.  
"Of course I do," he smiled.  
He slipped the pistol into his belt and covered it up with his jumper. Harwood offered him his hand, "Good luck Jackson."  
The author shook his hand tightly.  
"If this all goes to shit I want to tell you I appreciated your help," he added.  
Jackson nodded at him, "We'll be back soon."  
The two of them marched out of Harwood's office, leaving him standing on his own.  
"Hey Jackson!" he called.  
The two of them stopped and looked over their shoulders.  
"Be careful."  
"We will," Jackson nodded, he gestured to the students, "Make sure you keep these guys safe."  
He and Alice marched out of the station. Liam left his grieving friends and walked over to the door of the office and saw Harwood slowly rubbing his temple, "You really think George is the killer?"  
"Maybe," he groaned, "I hope so, then this can all be over. Go back to your friends, but don't tell them anything."  
Liam nodded and marched back over to his friends. Harwood watched him as he walked. He did not know how someone so young could cope with so much grief and not have a mental breakdown. He groaned and rubbed his eyes again. Jackson and Alice marched out of the police station into the freezing cold air. The snow had not given in and was still falling in a flurry around them. Jackson pulled out the keys to Kelsey's Land Rover and marched out of it.  
"How are you going to drive in this much snow?" Alice asked.  
"Road safety isn't really my priority right now," he replied.  
They jumped into the vehicle and Jackson slotted the keys into the ignition. The first thing Alice did was to turn on the heating.  
"Are you sure about this?" Alice asked, "What if we get there and we find out this George kid is the killer?"  
"Then I'm going to fucking avenge Kelsey's death!" Jackson growled.

Jackson pulled the handbrake on the Land Rover outside George Stokes' hall building. The two forty year olds leapt out of it, slamming the doors behind them. They marched through the blizzard and burst through the doors.  
"Fuck me it's cold!" Jackson shivered.  
"Where's your coat?" Alice asked.  
"I left it at the damn hospital!"  
"How do you know where this guy lives?" Alice asked.  
"I read the case files on Harwood's desk," he replied, "There was a plan with all the student's accommodation on it. His room is on the second floor."  
The two of them jogged up the stairs to the second floor. Jackson led Alice to George's front door. Jackson moved forward and knocked on the wooden door with his knuckles. There was no answer. The hairs on Alice's arms stood up on end, "I have a bad feeling about this."  
Jackson pulled the pistol out of his bed and held it tightly. He ran forward and kicked the door as hard as he could. The force of the kick snapped the lock and the door swung open. Jackson leapt forward into the room, aiming the gun in front of him. He looked around the room, but it was empty. He sighed and slipped the gun back into his belt before turning back to Alice, "It's clear."  
She sheepishly followed him into the room. She slowly looked around, "It doesn't look like the room of a killer."  
Jackson knelt down and peered under the bed. He saw a cardboard box. He reached out and grabbed it, pulling it across the carpet and the two of them looked down at the contents.  
"My God," Alice whispered.  
Inside the box was the infamous Ghostface mask alongside a bloodied knife and the killer's trademark robes alongside three Smartphones.  
"Looks like we've found out killer," Jackson muttered.

Jackson slammed the box down onto Harwood's desk a few minutes later.  
"I think we have our proof," he told him.  
The police officer's eyes widened. He looked up at Jackson and Alice, "Any sign of him?"  
Jackson shook his head, "I had to kick his door in."  
Liam looked up and saw them talking in Nolan's office. He left Leah, Grace and Dylan and crept forward, eavesdropping on the conversation. He pointed down at the box, "What's that?"  
"We found this in George's room," Alice explained.  
"Whose phones are they?" Harwood asked.  
"I went through them," Jackson told him, "They're the phones of Matt Lewer, Georgia Evans and Amy Mitchell."  
"Oh my God," Liam gasped, "George is the killer."  
"We need to find him now!" Harwood commanded, "Did you find anything in his room that said where he was going?"  
Alice shook her head, "Nothing."  
"Shit," the officer growled. He turned to Liam, "Did he say anything to you about where he was going?"  
Liam shrugged, "He said he was going after Alex."

Harwood pushed the heavy metal door open and walked into the dark concrete cell. Alex Green sat against the wall on the hard floor.  
"There's been another murder hasn't there?" he smiled.  
"Where's George Stokes?" Harwood demanded.  
"I'll take that as a yes," Alex chuckled, "So are you going to let me go?"  
"No."  
"But there's been another murder!" Alex protested, "I can't be the killer!"  
"You still assaulted two people in front of half a dozen witnesses. I can put you down for assault and get you four/five years unless you do something for me."  
"I'm not going to suck your dick if that's what your asking," Alex growled.  
Harwood glared at him, deciding to ignore his lat comment, "Where's George Stokes?"  
"I don't know. I haven't seen him," Alex replied coldly.  
"Fine," Harwood shrugged, "Have it your way."  
He exited the cell, slamming the door behind him and locking it with his set of keys. He heard Alex banging against it, "I told you the truth! I don't know!"  
Harwood ignored him and began to march back down the corridor where Jackson, Alice and Liam waited for him expectantly. Harwood sighed, "He says he doesn't know."  
"Do you believe him?" Jackson asked.  
"I don't know," he shrugged.  
Liam stepped forward, "It's clear that George wants me. I should go out there, try to draw him out."  
"There is no way I'm letting that happen," Jackson told him.  
"But this way no one else has to die," Liam told him.  
"I came up here to protect you guys," the author told him, "I'm not putting any of you in harm's way."  
"Don't worry," Alice told him, "We'll find George."  
"And when we do I'm going to kill him," Jackson said.

Leah, Grace and Dylan sat in silence in the police station, staring at the floor in shock.  
"I can't believe Harry and Matt are dead," Dylan grimaced.  
"Why is this happening to us?" Grace sniffed, "What did we do?"  
"This isn't about us," Leah told her, "We're just in the wrong place at the wrong time."  
"What do you thin its about?" Dylan asked her.  
Before she could answer the door burst open and Harwood marched past them and into Nolan's office, slamming the door behind him.  
"What's wrong with him?" Dylan pondered.  
Jackson, Alice and Liam closely followed him.  
"What's happening?" Leah asked.  
"We know who the killer is," Liam told them.  
Grace looked up in shock, "Who?"  
"George."  
"You've got to be shitting me!" Dylan exclaimed, "George isn't a killer!"  
"Don't do this Dyl," Liam warned.  
"No I will!" Dylan yelled, leaping to his feet, "I know George! Harry and Matt were two of his best friends! He would never hurt them!"  
"We found the killer's mask and knife in his bedroom!" Jackson snarled, "Along with the phones of three of the victims!"  
The colour drained from Dylan's face with the sudden realisation of his friends betrayal.  
"My God," he whispered.  
"I'd sit down if I were you," Alice told him.  
He collapsed back into his seat and held his hands over his mouth. Harwood stepped out of Nolan's office and ushered for Jackson, Alice and Liam to join him inside. The three of them slowly moved into Nolan's office as Harwood shut the door.  
"I have put out an APB for George Stokes' arrest," he explained, "But my officers are having trouble getting through the snow. There's only a slim chance that we're actually going to find him."  
Jackson groaned and slowly nodded, "This is going to be a very long day."  
Harwood turned to Liam, "Where are you and your friends staying tonight?"  
"Probably at mine I guess," Liam shrugged.  
Harwood shook his head, "Stokes knows where you live, its too dangerous."  
"Then where the hell can we go?" he demanded.  
Harwood reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a set of house keys and tossed them to Liam, "You're staying at my house. It's in the centre of town about a minute from the campus. Right now its probably the safest place in the city."  
He quickly wrote down the address of his home on a piece of paper and handed it to Liam.  
"Lock the doors, watch the TV, help yourselves to whatever's in the fridge, just make sure you stay there," Harwood instructed, "My number is on there too."  
Liam slowly nodded before turning to Jackson and Alice, "Are you guys coming."  
"I need them here," Harwood told him, "Don't worry, you'll be safe. Just get there as quickly as you can."  
Liam hesitated, but Jackson put his hand on his shoulder, "We'll get him. I promise."  
He pulled the pistol out from his belt and passed it to Liam. Harwood looked at Jackson in shock, "What the hell are you doing?!"  
The author ignores him and looked into Liam's eyes, "Keep this hidden from the others. Only use it if you see the killer."  
Liam nodded and slipped the pistol into the pocket of his jacket. He slowly exited the room, closing the door behind him. Harwood glared down at Jackson, "You're seriously giving a gun to an eighteen year old?!"  
"Don't worry I trust him," Jackson muttered.  
Harwood groaned and leant against the desk, shaking his head, "I'm definitely losing my job for this."  
"What did you want us to do?" Alice asked.  
"Go back to Stokes' place. I need you to find anything that points to where he's going or his next target. Rip the damn place down if you need to. Can you do that?"  
Jackson nodded, "Sure."

Chapter Twenty-Six  
Jackson and Alice pushed the door to George Stokes' room open once again and stepped inside.  
"The room of a killer," Alice muttered.  
There was a ringing phone lying on George's desk in front of them. Jackson scowled at it, "That wasn't there before."  
Alice marched over to it and picked it up, but Jackson grabbed her arm, "Don't."  
Alice ignored him and answered it, "What do you want?"  
"Welcome home Alice," the killer greeted menacingly, "Have you been enjoying my remake?"  
"You want to kill me you sick son of a bitch?!" Alice yelled, "Then you're going to have to come and get me."  
The killer cackled on the other end of the phone, "You always think it's about you don't you Alice? You always have to think you're the victim, but I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm not after you Alice."  
"Who are you after?"  
"But now that you're here I'm going to make you suffer," the killer continued, "I'm going to kill everyone close to you right in front of your eyes including those fucking kids and your beloved best friend. Then when you're begging for death I'll cut your eyelids open so you have to watch while I stab you in the face."  
Tears began to glisten in the corners of Alice's eyes, "Fuck you!"  
"You shouldn't have left those kids alone," the killer snarled, "Now they're all dead."  
Alice heard the killer laughing and threw the phone across the room in shock. She looked up at Jackson as her face went pale.  
"He's going after the kids!"

Chapter Twenty-Seven  
The night rolled in as Harwood sat in Nolan's office, typing his report out on a laptop. He cradled his head in his hands and groaned. His eyelids felt heavy. He had not slept in over thirty six hours and fatigue was catching up with him. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he could not rest until the killer was either dead or in custody. He leant back in his chair and yawned. He felt his eyes slowly closing. He could not fight it. His body was switching off. He jolted awake and almost fell off his chair. He looked down at the desk and saw his empty mug sitting next to his laptop. He desperately needed coffee. He grasped the mug in his strong hand and pulled himself to his feet, marching through the police station to the staff room. He filled an electric kettle with water and put it on the boil. He spooned some dried coffee granules into his mug and waited. Suddenly the lights switched off above him. Harwood looked up in shock. His heart was racing. All the electricity in the station had died. He swore under his breath, realising a fuse must have blown. He strode out of the staff room and quickly made his way to the fuse box. He stopped as he heard a door slam from somewhere inside the station. His heart stopped and he didn't dare breathe. He crept down the corridor toward the source of the noise. He reached a darkened room with a stairwell leading down to the basement. He moved forward and peered down the staircase, but could not see anything as it was far too dark. His skin began to crawl as he sensed that something was wrong. He needed to get the lights back on as soon as he could. He marched through the station and found the fuse box next to the fire exit at the back of the building. He stopped, seeing that the fuse box was already open. He slowly looked inside and groaned. Someone had repeatedly hit the fuse box with a heavy object, destroying all the fuses and rendering them useless. There was no way he would be able to switch the lights back on. But then a horrible thought hit him. If someone had intentionally destroyed the fuse box, then that person was most likely still in the building. His heart raced. He turned to run back to Nolan's office, but saw a terrible sight behind him. Lying on the floor in front of him was the mutilated body of the receptionist. Her throat had been slashed and the skin had been peeled back over her face like some sort of sickening fruit. Harwood cried out in shock and held his hands over his mouth. There was no use checking her pulse. There was no way she could have survived those injuries. He could feel bile rising in his throat. He had never seen something so disgusting. He bent over and vomited on the floor. He slowly wiped his mouth and got to his feet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone to call for backup, but before he could he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He slowly turned and saw the killer standing further down the corridor staring at him, his bloodied knife in hand. Harwood's skin went white and the phone slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, splashing down into the receptionist's blood. Harwood turned and sprinted away from the killer back down the corridor. He heard the killer running close behind him, but knew he had to ignore it and continue running. He sprinted back into the room with the staircase going down into the basement and skidded to a halt, looking back down the corridor at the killer as he ran toward him. Harwood grasped the heavy wooden door and slammed it shut. But before it could fully close, the killer slammed against it. The force propelled the door backward, throwing Harwood off his feet. He flew through the air and skidded across the smooth floor. He groaned and looked up, seeing the killer moving toward him slowly. The young police officer leapt to his feet and sprinted for another open door, but he did not get very far. The killer leapt through the air and brought his knife down into Harwood's back. The young man stopped dead. His eyes widened as he felt the blade slicing through his flesh. He gasped in shock, unable to move thanks to the incredible pain coming from his wound. He felt a warm liquid running down his back as the killer forced the blade in as far as it would go. Harwood felt his body being flooded with pain as the knife was slowly twisted. The killer pulled the blade out and Harwood stumbled backward, blood pouring from his deep wound. He blinked slowly as he stood at the top of the staircase. The colour had drained from his face and his skin was almost grey, but somehow the pain had lifted from his body. He no longer felt anything except a tingling feeling from his back. He tried to walk forward, but he did not have the strength. His body was too weak. He slowly looked up and saw the killer moving toward him. Harwood opened his mouth to speak, but he could not. The killer dashed forward, kicking Harwood in the chest. The force of the blow threw him backward through the air. He was propelled backward down the staircase. He fell down hard onto the concrete with a thud and rolled down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

Alex Green lay on the bed in his cell staring up at the concrete ceiling. He was angry with himself. In one day he had been arrested for assault, beaten up and lost his girlfriend and it was all because of his short temper. He had no idea how long he would be kept in the cell, but he was certain of something. He had ruined his life. There was a heavy metallic clunk from the door as it was unlocked. Alex sat up and awaited someone to enter. He waited, but no one pulled the door open. He got to his feet and crept toward the door. He pushed it open and peered out. It was pitch black. He shivered, regretting just wearing a t-shirt. His arms were covered in Goosebumps. He couldn't see anyone in the corridor and the police station was deadly silent.  
"Hello?" he called.  
He slipped out of the cell and moved down the corridor. He was confused. Where was everyone?  
"Hello?" he called again.  
Still there was no answer. He saw a door at the end of the corridor and moved towards it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He knew something was wrong, he knew he should leave and try to save himself, but curiosity got the better of him. He pushed through the door into the room with the staircase leading down to the basement. Something caught his eye and he gasped. There was a pool of blood sitting on the top of the stairs with more blood leading down into the darkness. His heart raced. He slowly followed the blood trail with his eyes and saw something lying at the bottom of the stairs in the darkness. Alex held his breath and slowly descended the stairs and peered down at the figure. Alex could see an ever growing pool of blood around the figure. He reached the figure and knelt beside him, rolling him over. He gasped as he saw an unconscious Harwood.  
"Oh God!" Alex muttered.  
He slowly shook the police officer, "Harwood? Can you hear me?"  
Harwood groaned, but did not open his eyes. Alex heard footsteps in the darkness around him. He leapt to his feet and looked around in horror, his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He frantically reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his lighter and ignited it. The small orange flame illuminated the area close by.  
"Who's there?" he called in a shaky voice, "Who's there?!"  
He looked, but could not see any movement. He slowly turned around and saw the Ghostface mask directly in front of him. The killer blew a gust of wind, extinguishing the flame. Alex cried out in shock and reached out to grab the killer, but he was gone. He felt hands grab him by the shoulders. He yelled and sprinted forward and back up the staircase. He looked back down the stairs, but could not see anything. The killer had vanished. He turned and sprinted through the police station toward the front door. He dashed toward it, twisted the handle and pushed, but nothing happened. The door was locked. He swore loudly. He stopped as he heard the killer's footsteps approaching. He desperately looked for a place to hide. He saw a small broom cupboard ahead of him and leapt toward it, wrenching the door open. He dived inside and slammed the door shut just as the killer's footsteps arrived outside the door. He held his breath as he heard the murderer just outside the door. He pressed his ear up against the thin wood and listened. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the footsteps walking away from him. Suddenly the killer's knife cut through the door, mere millimetres from his face. He gasped in shock as the killer wrenched the door open. Alex had no time to react as the killer grabbed him by the hair and dragged him from his hiding place and throwing him across the room. The young man slid across the smooth floor and looked up at the killer in fury. Anger once again bubbled through his veins. He pulled himself to his feet and saw the killer staring at him, holding his knife in hand. Alex clenched his hands into tight fists and was ready for his last stand. He was not going to roll over and let the killer take him, he was going to fight. He gestured at the murderer to make the first move. The killer lashed out with his blade, but Alex ducked beneath it. He smiled to himself as the killer growled under his breath. The killer lunged at him again, but Alex once again ducked. The knife swung through the air and collided with a fire extinguisher attached to the wall. The metal was breached and the contents exploded outward, spreading a white mist across the room. Alex took his opportunity and punched the killer in the stomach. The killer bent over in pain and Alex grabbed him around the waist and tackled him against the wall and began punching him repeatedly in the chest. The killer raised his knee and thumped it up into Alex's chest, knocking the air out of him. The killer moved forward and grabbed Alex and threw him across the room. Alex slammed into the side of a wooden desk and rolled over the top of it. He groaned as he hit the ground on the other side. He looked up, but could not see the killer through the fog. He pulled himself to his feet and looked down at the desk for something he could use as a weapon. He opened one of the desk drawers and found a pain of scissors and held them tightly so he would be ready for the killer's next attack. He moved away from the desk, ready for the fight. The fog slowly began to clear and Alex could now see around the room, but the killer was gone. He sighed to himself, but the killer suddenly leapt up from beneath a desk behind him. Alex spun around, slashing the scissors toward the killer's neck, but he ducked. The killer leapt forward and thrust his knife up into Alex's stomach. The young man screwed his face up in pain. The scissors dropped from his hand as pain seared through his body. The killer pulled him into a hug, twisting the blade as he forced it through Alex's flesh. Blood trickled from the corner of Alex's mouth and dripped onto the killer's shoulder. He felt the killer's arms wrapped tightly around him as if to apologize for stabbing him and to ease his passing. Without warning the killer released his grip and wrenched the blade from Alex's body and he tumbled to the ground. He hit it hard and looked down at his wound which was gushing with blood. He tried to get up, but did not have the strength and fell back to the ground. He could see the blood pool around him increasing in size as pints of the red liquid poured from his body. The killer slowly knelt beside him and ran his fingers through Alex's hair before pulling his mask off. Alex's eyes widened with terror as he looked up into the killer's face.  
"Oh my God," he gurgled.  
The killer quickly replaced his mask and got to his feet, looking down at the struggling Alex. He lashed out with his blade again. It cut across Alex's throat, slicing through his skin. Blood squirted out onto the killer's robes. Ghostface watched with glee as Alex tried to stem the blood flow, but it was no use. His head fell back onto the floor as every pint of blood left his body. The killer wiped his blade on his robes and turned, walking away from Alex's twitching body, leaving the young man to die alone.

Chapter Twenty-Eight  
Matt Harwood lived in a house in the centre of Stoke. It was small and nothing to boast about, but it did have a swimming pool in the back garden which was barely used thanks to the freezing cold Stoke weather. During the blizzard, the house was picture perfect, a picture that would be suitable on a Christmas card. Harwood bought the house over a year beforehand when he first moved to Stoke from Edmonton in London. In the front living room, Liam Cook lay fast asleep on the leather sofa. He, like most of his friends hadn't slept since they first heard about the murders, but sleep had finally caught up with him. As soon as he and his friends arrived at the house, he sat on the sofa and instantly fell into a deep slumber. He jolted awake and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the deserted living room in confusion. His friends had vanished, leaving him alone.  
"Guys?" he called.  
He lifted himself off the sofa. His skin prickled. He knew something was wrong.  
"GUYS?!" he yelled.  
Grace popped her head through the kitchen door. She looked at him in confusion, "Liam? Are you alright?"  
He breathed a short sigh of relief, "Where are the others?"  
She frowned, "I thought they were in here with you."  
"Obviously not," he grunted.  
Grace pulled her phone out of her pocket, "I'll call them."  
She quickly dialled Leah's number and pressed the phone to her ear and waited for her to answer.  
"Hello?" Grace answered.  
"Leah?" Grace asked, "Thank God you're alright."  
Liam smiled, for a moment he had feared the worst.  
"Where the hell are you?" Grace demanded, "Is Dylan with you?"  
"Yeah," Leah quickly replied, "We just went back to my room to get some clean clothes. What's wrong?"  
"We were worried about you!" Grace told her, "We didn't know you'd gone."  
"We've been gone half an hour!" Leah chuckled, "How did you not notice?"  
"Just get back here as soon as you can!" Grace commanded.  
"Alright!" Leah responded, "We'll be back in a couple of minutes."  
"Hurry," Grace told her, "And be careful."  
She hung up the phone and replaced it in her pocket before smiling at Liam, "They're both fine."  
Liam leant against the wall and ran his fingers through his hair.  
"Are you alright?" Grace asked.  
"I will be when they catch George and this is all over," he replied.  
"Me too," she nodded, "I can't believe George is the one doing all this."  
"I was so sure it was Alex," he muttered, "When this is over I really owe him an apology."  
"I think we all do," she sighed.  
She sat down on the sofa and slowly rubbed her face, stretching. Liam reached into his belt to check on the pistol that Jackson had given him, but it was gone. A wave of horror washed over him.  
"Oh my God," he gasped.  
"What?"  
"Jackson gave me a gun," Liam explained, "It was in my belt when I fell asleep, now its gone."  
Grace's eyes widened, "Did Leah take it?"  
He shook his head, "She didn't know about it."  
"But that means-" she started.  
"The killer's here," Liam interrupted.  
His phone began to ring, he quickly pulled it out and answered it, "Hello?"  
"Liam it's Jackson," the caller told him frantically, "The killer's coming after you. He knows where you are."  
"I think he's already here," Liam muttered.  
The author swore loudly, "Lock yourself in a room in the house. The snow's pretty bad, but we'll get there as soon as we can."  
"Alright," Liam nodded.  
"Use the gun," Jackson told him.  
"I think the killer has it," Liam groaned.  
"What?!" Jackson yelled.  
"He must've taken it when I was asleep," Liam shrugged as fear began coursing through his veins.  
The author swore again, "Get whatever you can to defend yourselves. We'll be there soon!"  
Liam slowly pocketed the phone as the call ended. He turned to Grace, "Find something to use as a weapon."  
She nodded and shuffled back towards the kitchen, but stopped as the doorbell rang. The two of them froze and stared at the front door. Liam slowly crept toward it.  
"Are you crazy?!" Grace yelled, "Don't open the door!"  
"What if it's Leah or Dylan?" he asked.  
"What if it's George?" she retorted.  
"Who is it?" Liam called.  
There was no answer,  
"I said who is it?" he yelled.  
Still there was silence. Liam grasped the door handle and slowly twisted it. Grace held her breath as he slowly inched the door open. There was an explosion of sound. Liam leapt backward away from the door, landing on the hard wooden floor. He looked at the door in shock, not knowing what had just happened.  
"Grace?" he asked, "Are you alright?"  
He looked up and saw Grace standing in the living room, slowly shaking, her skin pale and her eyes wide. He looked at her chest and saw a gunshot wound in the middle of her ribcage which blood was streaming out of. She looked down at her wound before looking up at Liam in fear.  
"Liam," she whispered.  
She fell backward onto the sofa and lay still, staring up at the ceiling.  
"GRACE!" Liam screamed.  
He leapt to his feet as the front door burst open directly in front of him. The killer burst in through the open door holding a knife in one hand and Liam's pistol in the other. The colour quickly drained from Liam's face. He turned and sprinted up the stairs behind him. He heard the killer's gun firing and felt a bullet whiz past his body, missing him by millimetres before slamming into the wall. Liam dashed onto the landing and looked back down the stairs and saw the killer sprinting toward him. Liam leapt into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him just as the killer slammed against it. He saw the handle turning and quickly bolted it shut. Liam staggered backward and heard the killer punching the door, trying to gain access. There was another explosion as the killer fired the gun for the third time. The bullet smashed through the wood and zoomed toward Liam, but he dived into the bathtub, dodging the ball of lead just in time. Liam groaned in pain as he lay in the tub, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He swore under his breath. He was trapped in a bathroom with a murderous psychopath on the other side of the door. He climbed out of the bathtub and saw a small glass window on the bathroom wall. He dashed over to it. There was a crack behind him. He peered over his shoulder and saw the killer stabbing his knife through the wooden door. He knew he did not have much time. He tried to open the window, but it was locked. He looked around for something to break it with and saw a scented candle in a heavy ceramic pot on the side of the bath. He grabbed it and threw it against the window. The glass shattered and a gust of cold air shot into the room. He looked back at the door again. The killer had cut a big enough hole for his arm and was reaching through it, trying to unlock the door. Liam climbed up onto the toilet seat and reached out of the window. He grabbed hold of the guttering with his strong grip and pulled himself through the window frame. He looked down beneath his feet. Below him was a ten foot drop to Harwood's frozen swimming pool. He swore under his breath, if the fall didn't kill him, the icy water certainly would. He looked up at the snowy roof. At the front of Harwood's house was a one story porch that he could climb down onto and make his mistake. He heaved himself up. His biceps burned under the strain. He could feel the guttering cracking beneath his weight. He leapt up, reaching for something to grab onto on the snowy roof, but all he could grab was snow. He slipped backward off the roof, but managed to grab the guttering again. He swore as it cracked more and more. Suddenly it gave way and he fell. He cried out in fear as he plummeted through the air. His body slammed down onto the ice which cracked beneath his weight. He fell through into the freezing cold water. It felt as if he were being stabbed by a thousand knifes as the water pressed in on him, knocking the air from his body. He sank through the water and hit the bottom of the pool with a thud. He looked for the hole he created, but it was too dark. He swam through the water punched the ice, but it was too thick to break. His lungs were burning, he needed air. He desperately tried to resist the temptation to breathe, knowing that instead of air, his lungs would be filled with water. He pulled back his fist and punched the ice with all his strength, but nothing happened except for his knuckles searing with pain. He slowly started to sink back into the depths. His vision began to blur as he hit the bottom of the pool. His head began to spin. There was nothing he could do. This was the end. Then he saw it, the hole he had created. He kicked off the bottom and zoomed through the air like a bullet. His head broke the surface of the water and he gasped, breathing in vast quantities of air. He slowly pulled himself out of the water and crawled to the edge of the pool before collapsing. He panted heavily. The air felt thick as if he were drinking soup. He could feel the cold worse than ever now. His skin was completely white and he was shivering. He pulled himself to his feet and looked up at the window. The killer had gone. Liam dashed to the gate leading out of the garden and burst through it into a dimly lit alleyway. He saw the University ahead of him and sprinted toward it, knowing he had to hide from the killer. He reached the entrance and saw the door ajar. He burst through it into the dimly lit corridors. He was shaking terribly. He was colder than he had ever been before. Water was dripping off his soaked clothes and onto the tiled floor.  
"Hello?" he called.  
His voice echoed down the hall. The University was deserted. He marched forwards. His phone had been ruined thanks to the chlorinated water and he knew he had to find a phone so that he could call for help. He jogged down the corridor and swiftly turned a corner, running directly into someone. He cried out in shock and grabbed the darkened figure by the neck and slammed him into the wall, but gasped as he saw the face of Leah Scott. He immediately released his grip on her neck.  
"Leah?!" he exclaimed, "I'm so sorry!"  
She coughed before hugging him tightly, "Oh my God, thank God you're alright!"  
She looked down at his dripping clothes in confusion, "What the hell happened?!"  
"The killer attacked us," Liam grimaced.  
Leah's face fell, "Where's Grace?"  
"He shot her," Liam sniffed.  
Leah clasped her hands to her mouth as tears began to form.  
"Where's Dylan?" Liam asked.  
"I don't know," Leah cried, "We got separated in the blizzard!"  
"Give me your phone," he commanded, "We need to call for help."  
"I dropped it," Leah sobbed, "But there's a phone in drama studio."

Jackson pulled the brakes on Kelsey's Land Rover outside Harwood's house. He and Alice leapt out of the vehicle and sprinted toward the house. Jackson groaned, "The door's open."  
They dashed through the open door into the house. Jackson looked up the stairs whilst Alice peered into the living room. Jackson saw the splintered bathroom door and swore, "Liam?!"  
He began running up the stairs.  
"Jackson!" Alice yelled.  
He turned and sprinted into the living room and saw Alice kneeling beside the sofa, checking Grace's pulse.  
"Oh God," Jackson muttered.  
"She's alive," Alice announced, "Barely."  
Jackson rushed to her side. Grace's eyes slowly opened and she peered out at them.  
"What happened?" Alice asked.  
"The killer," Grace wheezed, "He went after Liam."  
"Call an ambulance," Jackson commanded.  
He pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa as Alice pulled out her phone and dialled the emergency services. The author pressed the blanket over Grace's gushing gunshot wound and put her hands across it, "You need to keep pressure on this."  
He got to his feet. Alice glared at him, "Where the hell are you going?!"  
"I need to find Liam!" Jackson told her, "I'm not letting anyone else die!"  
"If we leave she'll die!" Alice yelled.  
"Just go," Grace wheezed, "I'll be fine."  
"Are you sure?" Alice asked her.  
Grace slowly nodded, "Kill that fucker."

Liam and Leah sprinted into the drama studio and found themselves on one side of an erected stage ready for a performance. Leah pointed to the other side of the stage where there was a telephone mounted on the wall, "Over there!"  
The two of them sprinted forward, but there was an explosion from the audience. They skidded to a halt and spun around. The saw the killer standing in the audience aiming the pistol at them. He slowly walked toward the stage and climbed the steps, moving towards them.  
"You're a hard man to kill Liam," he growled without using his voice changer.  
Liam and Leah gasped as they instantly recognised the voice. Liam's eyes widened in shock.  
"Oh my God," he whispered.  
The killer slowly pulled the mask off, revealing his face. Dylan Jones smiled at them menacingly, "Surprised?"  
"Dylan?!" Leah exclaimed.  
He ripped off the robes and continued aiming the pistol at them, "You didn't see that coming did you?"  
"Why?" Liam asked.  
"Someone came up to me about eight months ago," Dylan explained, "Said he wanted to replicate the Steyning Massacre. He taught me to kill, faked my A-Level results and paid for my tuition for University. He offered me a hell of a lot of money to do all this, just to kill a few stupid idiots who thought they were special. You've made it all so easy Liam. Liam Cook, the perfect victim. You weren't easy to manipulate. All I had to do was implant the ideas of the killer being someone else."  
Liam clenched his fists in anger, "All this for money?! You killed Matt and Harry! Your best friends you sick fuck!"  
Dylan shrugged, "Who needs friends when you have money?"  
"You're never going to get away with this!" Leah told him.  
"You see that's the best part!" he grinned, "No one will ever know its me!"  
He moved over to a cupboard next to the wall and wrenched the door open and grabbed something inside. He dragged it out and threw it to the floor. Liam and Leah looked down at the bound and gagged George Stokes. They gasped as they saw him wriggling, trying to get free.  
"I've blamed the whole thing on George," Dylan explained, "I hid a mask and knife under his bed with the victim's phones. It's the perfect disguise. I've thought everything through. Once I kill you two, I'll kill him and stab myself in the shoulder. I'm going to be known as the only survivor of the Stoke Massacre. The guy who stopped the killer single handed, but was too late to save his friends."  
He aimed the gun at Liam's head, "Sorry mate, it's all part of the plot."  
"There's one thing you forgot!" a voice yelled from behind him.  
Dylan spun around and saw Jackson and Alice standing directly behind him. In his hands Jackson held a fire extinguisher.  
"Me!" Jackson growled.  
He swung the fire extinguisher through the air. It slammed into the side of Dylan's head, throwing him to the ground.  
"RUN!" Jackson yelled.  
He dropped the extinguisher to the floor and he, Alice, Liam and Leah sprinted to a door on the other side of the stage. Dylan grasped the pistol and fired blindly at them as he rubbed his bleeding forehead. The bullets narrowly missed the four of them as they burst through the door and down the corridor. They sprinted to the end of the corridor, but Jackson stopped.  
"We can't outrun him for long," he announced.  
"We have to!" Alice told him.  
He looked at Alice with remorse in his eyes, "I'm sorry."  
She looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Jackson? What are you doing?"  
"You're my best friend," he told her, "I love you."  
"What are you doing?" she repeated.  
"I'm sorry," he breathed.  
He grabbed the door at the end of the corridor and slammed it shut before Alice could react. She grabbed the handle, but he locked it. He looked through the small window at him, "Jackson?! What are you doing?!"  
His eyes began glistening with tears, "Get them out Alice."  
"Don't do this Jackson!" she screamed.  
Tears began pouring down her cheeks as Liam and Leah watched in horror. She banged against the door, "DON'T DO THIS!"  
"Tell my son I love him," Jackson said calmly.  
"PLEASE!" Alice screeched, "DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
He placed his hand on the window and as she sobbed, Alice placed her hand over his, the cold glass separating them.  
"I don't want to lose you," she sobbed.  
"I know," he replied, "I wish I could stay with you for the rest of my life, but I can't."  
"You don't have to do this!"  
"I do," he replied solemnly, "There are so many things I want to say to you, but I can't find the words."  
"We can all get out here Jackson," Alice pleaded, "You can come with us."  
"I wish I could."  
Alice's cheeks were glistening with tears as she rested her head against the glass.  
"Goodbye," he whispered.  
He slowly turned and saw Dylan staring at him from the other side of the corridor, an evil grin on his face. He slipped the gun into his belt and pulled out his knife, "I'm going to enjoy this."  
Jackson rolled up his sleeves and faced the killer. Alice watched in terror as the two men ran at each other. Dylan slashed at Jackson with his knife, but the author ducked and tackled his midriff and the two of them tumbled back to the ground. The knife flew out of Dylan's hands and clattered away across the floor. Jackson lashed out with his fist, punching Dylan in the centre of his face. He felt the killer's nose breaking beneath his knuckles. Dylan sent his knee up into Jackson's chest, throwing him to the floor. Dylan reached into his belt and pulled out the pistol and aimed it at Jackson's chest. Alice cried out, but Jackson grabbed Dylan's wrist and twisted the pistol out of his grip before he could fire. Dylan screwed his face up in fury and leapt at Jackson, knocking him into the wall, wrapping his hands around his neck. The pistol slipped from Jackson's fingers and fell to the floor as he tried to force Dylan off him. Alice slammed herself against the door, but could not break the lock. Liam pushed her out of the way and kicked it, but the door would not budge. Jackson could feel Dylan's strong grip cutting off his airway. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a biro and thrust it towards Dylan's arm. It sliced through his skin and dug into his muscle. Dylan cried out in pain and released his grip on Jackson. Jackson pushed him backward down the corridor. Dylan stumbled and leant against the wall. He grasped the biro and pulled it out of his arm and screamed in pain. He threw it to the ground before picking up his blade. He ran at the forty year old author and lashed out with the knife. Jackson dived backward, being lucky not to have his throat slashed. Dylan lashed out again, the blade slicing through the sleeve of Jackson's jumper. He winced as it grazed his skin. He did not have time to notice the pain as Dylan came at him again. The killer thrust the knife down toward Jackson's chest. Jackson caught his wrists in the nick of time just as the tip of the blade pressed against his chest. Dylan thrust his nemesis up against the wall and pressed against the hilt of the knife with all his strength, trying to stab it into the author's heart. Jackson sent his knee flying up into Dylan's crotch. The young man cried out in pain, dropping the knife to the floor. Jackson grabbed him and threw him into the wall and watched as he crumpled to the floor. He leapt on top of the Ghostface killer and began punching him in the face. He felt his knuckles searing with pain, but did not care. All he cared about was beating Dylan to death. Jackson raised his fist into the air one more time, but stopped, seeing Dylan lying unconscious, his nose severely broken, his eyes bruised and blood gushing from his jaw. Jackson panted and climbed to his feet. He slowly walked toward the door, but saw Alice looking at him in horror.  
"Behind you!" she screamed.  
He spun around and saw Dylan lying on the floor, holding the pistol, aiming it at his chest. Jackson's eyes widened in horror as he realised his fatal mistake. Dylan spat out blood and smiled, "Punch this fucker!"  
He squeezed the trigger. A bullet exploded from the barrel and cut through the air faster than a jet before slamming into Jackson's chest.  
"NO!" Alice screamed.  
The author stumbled backward in shock. Dylan began cackling to himself as Jackson looked down at his wound. He saw blood pouring out as if it were a fountain. Dylan slowly pulled himself to his feet and aimed the gun at Jackson and fired once again. The bullet hit him in the stomach and threw him to the floor. He groaned in pain as it lodged itself in his intestines. Alice began sobbing again as she thumped the door, trying to force it open. Dylan strode forward and loomed over Jackson. He spat at him, "I hope you die in the most painful way possible."  
He aimed at his stomach again and fired twice more. Blood trickled from the corners of Jackson's mouth.  
"NO!" Alice screamed again.  
Liam and Leah grabbed her arms and tried to drag her away, but she fought them off, staying beside the door. Dylan looked up and aimed the gun at Alice and fired, but Liam tackled her to the floor. The bullet slammed into the window exactly where she had been standing.  
"We need to go!" Liam told her.  
"I'm not going anywhere!" she screamed.  
"Yes you are!"  
He grabbed her arms and dragged her to her feet. Together, he and Leah began dragging her away from the door. Dylan took one last look at Jackson before marching toward the door. Jackson's life began flashing before his eyes. He remembered the day he and his friends gathered together to get their A-Level results, the first massacre, the betrayal of his friends, meeting his wife, the birth of his son, Sam Plowman's funeral. A small smile crept across his face as he heard Dylan burst through the door. He knew that under the circumstances he had lived a good life. A life that many would be envious of. He could feel the darkness reaching out to take him. He tried to fight it off for as long as possible, but he knew he couldn't. He had been shot four times. He was dying and he not only knew it, but he accepted it. He heard a door opening at the other end of the corridor. With the last of his strength he looked up. His vision was blurred, but he could make out what looked like a wheelchair. His head fell back and he felt his eyes slowly closing. Jackson Jones was on the verge of death.

Chapter Twenty-Nine  
Alice forced her way out of Liam and Leah's grip. She glared at them through her teary eyes, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"  
"We need help!" Liam yelled, "without you we don't stand a chance!"  
"I have to go back!" she screamed, "I can't leave him!"  
She turned and headed for the door, but Liam grabbed her arm, "What would Jackson do?"  
She glared at him, nothing but hatred in her eyes, "I'm not him!"  
She forced her arm out of his grip.  
"He's dead!" Leah told her, "There's nothing you can do!"  
Alice spun on the spot and grabbed Leah by the neck and slammed her into the wall.  
"Don't you say that!" she screeched, "Don't you tell me he's gone!"  
Leah coughed and spluttered under Alice's grip. Liam put his hand on her shoulder, "There's nothing you can do. I'm so sorry."  
Alice groaned and slowly released her grip on Leah's neck. She wiped away her tears, "You two have to get out of here, right now."  
"What about you?" Liam asked.  
"I'll be fine," Alice told them, "Grace is alive. You need to go and make sure she's alright."  
The two students hesitated. Alice pushed them both down the corridor, "GO!"  
Suddenly Dylan leapt out of nowhere and grabbed Alice from behind, dragging her backward. She looked at the two students in shock, "RUN!"  
The two of them turned and sprinted down the corridor. Dylan leaned in close to Alice's neck.  
"I told you I'd destroy everything you loved," he snarled.  
He threw Alice to the side. She collided with a classroom door. The force of the impact snapped the lock and the door swung open and Alice tumbled to the floor of the dimly lit room. Before she could get up, Dylan was on her again. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet and smiled at her, "Don't worry, I'll make it quick."  
He punched her in the stomach, his fist knocking the air out of her. She wheezed as he threw her forward into the room. She collided with a group of desks and knocked them over. She groaned as she lay in a tangle of wood and metal table legs. She looked up and saw Dylan marching toward her. She saw him pocket his pistol and pull out his blade. He frowned at her, "You and your friend should really not have come here!"  
He lashed out with the knife, the blade slicing across her back. Alice screamed in pain as she felt her skin separate and blood seep out. Dylan grabbed her by the hair again and tossed her across the room. Alice slammed into a wooden cabinet. Her body smashed through the wood. She fell to the floor and wheezed in pain. She looked up and saw the heavy cabinet wobbling. Her eyes widened as it titled and fell toward her. She quickly rolled out of the way as the cabinet smashed onto the floor where she had been lying. If she had not have moved, she would have been crushed. Alice panted and looked up at Dylan as he grinned at her.  
"You're a real pain in the arse," he growled.  
Alice was almost ready to roll over and accept her death, but then the images of two people flashed across her mind. Jackson and Kelsey. Her two best friends had felt their lives being cruelly ripped away by the psychopath that stood in front of her. Fury raged through her like a raging fire. She was alone on the planet thanks to him. She slowly got to her feet, her lip trembling with anger. She sprinted forward, dashing toward Dylan who laughed to himself, believing there was nothing Alice could do to prevent her death. Alice leapt onto a chair and propelled herself into the air. She dived toward Dylan and pulled her fist back, watching as the smile faded from his face. She lashed out, her knuckles slamming into his jaw. The force of the blow through Dylan backward, his blade flying out of him hand. Alice hit the floor with a thud and looked up, seeing the killer stumbling backward, her punch having dazed him. She leapt to her feet and ran at him, punching him in the stomach. Tears began pouring down her face once again. She was not only fighting the killer, but she was fighting for the memories of her best friends, trying to justify their sacrifices. She was too busy punching him in the stomach, she did not notice Dylan pulling back his fist. He lashed out, punching her in the face. Alice staggered backward, cradling her bleeding nose. Dylan rushed forward and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. He threw her backward against the opposite wall. Alice slammed into it hard and fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Dylan marched over to his blade and took it up before striding toward Alice. She wearily pulled herself to her feet as he faced her. He thrust the knife toward her chest, but Alice did not defend herself, she reached around his waist and grabbed the pistol in her belt. The blade sliced through Alice's flesh. She gasped in shock as she felt the immense pain of being stabbed. Dylan chuckled menacingly, "Game over Alice."  
He pulled the blade out and picked her off her feet once again and tossed her toward the huge window behind them. Her body collided with the glass which instantly shattered. Dylan watched as Alice Lidbetter fell to the ground, disappearing into the snow.

Liam and Leah continued down a corridor until they reached a fire exit. They both panted, trying to catch their breath. Leah leant against the wall as her best friend kicked the fire escape door open. He peered outside into the blizzard before turning back to Leah.  
"You need to go!" he commanded.  
"What?!" she exclaimed.  
"You need to go back to Harwood's place," Liam told her, "Make sure Grace is alright and get some help."  
She quickly shook her head, "I'm not leaving you!"  
"He's not going to give up Leah," he explained, "Not until we're all dead. I'll distract him long enough so that you can get away."  
Tears began forming in Leah's eyes, "Come with me."  
"He'll find us," Liam sighed, "Just go."  
He pulled her into a tight hug, "I'll be fine."  
She continued to shake her head. Liam grabbed her and threw her through the fire escape door. She dashed back towards him, but he slammed the door shut, locking her outside.  
"LIAM!" he heard her scream.  
"Go find help!" he yelled.  
He slowly peered over his shoulder and saw Dylan standing twenty feet from him, a smile creeping across his face as he looked at his prey. He held his knife tightly in his hand as if he were a hunter.  
"You want me?!" Liam yelled, "You're going to have to catch me!"  
He turned on the spot and sprinted through another door into a stairwell. He dashed up them as fast as he could, taking them five at a time, as many as his small legs would let him. He heard Dylan chasing him and knew he needed to hurry or else he would be caught. He could feel the water evaporating from his clothes as his body began to excrete heat. He could almost feel Dylan's outstretched arms behind him. In the distance he could hear sirens, his heart raced. He knew Leah had got help, he knew as long as he outran Dylan everything would be okay. He exited the stairwell on the forth floor and dashed down a corridor, looking for another way to go. Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder. Hope drained from him as he knew Dylan had caught him. Liam spun around, but saw not Dylan, but George Stokes standing before him. He was panting.  
"George?!" Liam exclaimed.  
"Where is he?" George asked, "Where's Dylan?"  
"He was right behind me," Liam shuddered.  
His friend shrugged, "He's not there now. Where's Leah?"  
"She got out," Liam told him, "She's safe."  
George breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank God. Now we need to get safe."  
The two set off down the corridor, being mindful to watch out for Dylan.  
"I'm sorry George," Liam panted.  
"For what?"  
"For thinking you were the killer."  
George shrugged, "Don't apologise until Dylan's dead."  
Suddenly a door beside them burst open and Dylan leapt out, grabbing Liam by the neck. Liam had no time to react, but George leapt forward, tackling Dylan to the floor. He turned to Liam, "RUN!"  
Liam did as he was told and sprinted back toward the stairs. George clasped his hands to the killer's neck and squeezed, choking him. Dylan struggled to breathe and began to splutter.  
"THIS IS FOR AMY YOU SON OF A BITCH!" George screamed.  
Dylan reached around the floor for his knife. His fingers brushed the hilt and he took it up in his grasp. George was concentrating too hard on strangling Dylan to foresee what was to come. The killer thrust the blade upwards into George's ribcage. The anger vanished from George's face. His grip on Dylan's neck released. He looked down at his wound. Blood was gushing out. Dylan twisted the blade and his victim cried out in pain. The killer threw George backward onto the floor, pulling out his knife. George gazed blankly up at the ceiling, struggling for breath. Dylan smiled down at him, "Sorry George. You really were an easy target."  
He chuckled menacingly before turning and marching after Liam, leaving George to die alone.

Liam stopped to catch his breath a further two floors higher. He leant against the wall and panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. His thoughts rested on those he had lost thanks to Dylan, Georgia, Amy, Harry, Matt were all dead while Grace and George were both probably dead by now. He had destroyed everything that Liam loved. He gritted his teeth ad anger coursed through his veins. He spun around upon hearing footsteps running up the staircase behind him. Liam swore under his breath and looked around for somewhere to hide. He saw a door ahead of him and burst through it, slamming it behind him. He heard Dylan stepping out of the stairwell. He held his breath, trying not to make a sound. He looked at the room he was in and realised he was in a Janitor's closet. Just below the ceiling he saw a small mental vent which he would just be able to crawl through. He moved forward and began climbing up a shelving unit to reach the vent. He reached out and grabbed the metal grille covering the vents entrance. He heaved with all his strength and tore the grille from the mouth of the vent. His heart stopped as the grille slipped through his fingers. It fell to the floor with an almighty crash. Liam could hear Dylan's footsteps approaching fast. He leapt forward and hauled himself into the vent just as the door to the closet was ripped open. The supply room was filled with artificial light as Dylan burst in. the killer looked around the room and groaned as he saw the grille on the floor. He leapt onto the shelving unit and gazed into the vent, seeing Liam was already twenty feet ahead of him.  
"FUCK!" Dylan screamed.  
Liam peered over his shoulder and saw Dylan disappearing. He smiled to himself as his hope returned. Maybe he would survive after all.

Chapter Thirty  
Liam crawled through the vent on his hands and knees. His heart was racing and he was panting. He had no idea where Dylan was or what he was planning to do, he just knew he had to keep going. He didn't even know where the vent lead. There was a darkness creeping over him, the darkness of loneliness. He had lost everyone he cared about. He tried to push the thoughts of his friends out of his mind, trying to focus on survival. The metal felt cold on his skin. He looked back over his shoulder at the way he had just come. He had already crawled about fifty feet and Dylan was nowhere to be seen. He looked back at the route ahead of him. It was pitch black and he could not see a thing, but still he continued. There was a loud bang from somewhere beneath the vent. Liam stopped dead. He knew something was wrong. Suddenly a knife was stabbed up through the metal directly next to Liam's hand. He cried out in shock as Dylan pulled the blade out and stabbed it up again. The knife this time was even closer to his hand. Liam rushed forward, trying to evade the killer, but Dylan stabbed the knife up for a third time. It sliced through the metal and grazed Liam's thigh. The young man winced in pain, but he tried to ignore the pain as he continued forward. Dylan punched through the metal and grabbed Liam's ankle, dragging him backward. Liam desperately tired to free himself from Dylan's strong grip. He felt the metal beginning to buckle beneath his weight. He groaned. The metal broke and Liam fell through into the corridor. He hit Dylan in mid air and the two of them tumbled to the floor. Liam let out a sigh of pain as he hit the ground with a thud. He looked up and saw Dylan reaching for his knife. Liam lashed out with his foot, kicking the killer in the face. He recoiled in pain as Liam leapt to his feet and dashed down the corridor, ignoring the pain from his leg. He turned a corner and looked down at his wound. Thankfully it was not too deep and he was not losing too much blood. He ran back to the staircase. The sirens were even louder now and he knew help was not far away. He wrenched the door to the stairs open, but Dylan grabbed him by the hair.  
"WHY WONT YOU JUST DIE?!" he screamed.  
He threw Liam forward. He lost his footing and tumbled down the staircase, hitting each one as he went. He came to a stop on the landing of the next floor and groaned in pain. Dylan dived through the air and landed on top of him and thrust the knife down toward Liam's chest, but he caught his wrists just in time, the knife hovering just and inch above him. Dylan's face was screwed up in anger as he tried to force the blade down into Liam's chest.  
"JUST DIE!" he screeched.  
Liam's hands were shaking, he was too weak to hold Dylan off for long. He let go with one of his hands and grabbed Dylan's head and slammed it into the concrete wall. Dylan moaned in pain and released his grip on the knife. Liam leapt to his feet and dashed towards the door, bursting through it into the corridor. He ran as fast as he could, trying to evade the killer, but heard him close behind. Dylan leapt through the air and knocked Liam to the floor before diving on top of him. Dylan threw his knife to the ground and wrapped his hands around Liam's neck, cutting off his air supply. Liam struggled against him, but Dylan was too strong. Liam had no strength left in his body.  
"I hope this hurts," Dylan snarled, "I hope it is slow and painful!"  
Liam's skin was slowly turning blue thanks to the lack of oxygen. Dylan smiled, knowing that in just a few seconds Liam would be dead and he would have succeeded. He watched as Liam's eyes slowly closed and he stopped struggling. Dylan began to cackle to himself. There was an explosion of sound from down the corridor. Dylan released his grip on Liam's bruised neck and looked up, seeing Alice Lidbetter standing further down the corridor holding the smoking pistol. The smile faded off Dylan's face as he looked down at his shoulder and saw a bullet hole in his flesh with blood pouring out. He frowned, he had barely felt the ball of lead hit him and felt no pain. He looked up at Alice in shock.  
"How are you still alive?" he gasped.  
Alice pulled up her t-shirt revealing her Kevlar vest beneath.  
"You underestimated me you piece of shit!" she yelled.  
She aimed the pistol at Dylan's head and squeezed the trigger, expecting to end the massacre. No bullet exploded from the barrel. Instead there was a click. The pistol had no more bullets remaining in its clip. Alice swore under her breath. Dylan's smile was restored. He took up his blade and abandoned Liam's body, sprinting toward Alice. She dropped the empty pistol to the floor, knowing there was no use in fighting. Dylan raised his knife into the air, ready to strike the fatal blow, but before he could there was another explosion. Dylan was thrown off his feet and tossed into the wall in a sea of blood. Alice leapt back in shock. She peered down at him and saw several bullet wounds on his body with blood squirting out of them. His cold, dead eyes were staring blankly up at the ceiling. Alice slowly looked up at her saviour and saw a man in an electronic wheelchair down the corridor holding a smoking shotgun. Alice gasped as she instantly recognised him.  
"TRISTAN?!" she exclaimed.  
She had been at school with Tristan Miller. He had been badly injured during the third Steyning Massacre and had been paralysed from the waist down. Afterwards he became paranoid that the killer would return, so she and Jackson faked Tristan's death and allowed him to live in peace. She thought she would never see him again. He smiled at her, "Looks like I got here just in time."  
Alice rushed to Liam's side and knelt beside him.  
"He's not breathing," she whispered.  
She began performing CPR on him, trying to revive him.  
"It's too late," Tristan whispered.  
"No it's not!" Alice yelled.  
She continued trying to save Liam's life. She gave him the kiss of live, trying to pump air into his lungs and continued CPR.  
"I am not going to lose anyone else!" she panted.  
She continued pressing down on his heart.  
"COME ON!" she yelled.  
Liam suddenly coughed, opening his eyes. He gasped for air and sat up and Alice hugged him. He looked over and saw Dylan's limp, bleeding body. He breathed a sigh of relief, "It's over."  
He looked over at Tristan, "Who the fuck are you?"  
A thought suddenly rushed back into Alice's mind, "JACKSON!"  
She leapt to her feet and sprinted down the corridor.

She burst through the door to the corridor where Jackson lay in a pool of his own blood. Alice dashed over to him and knelt at his side. His eyes were closed and his skin was pale. She placed her hand on his cheek, "Jackson?"  
His eyes slowly opened and he peered up at her.  
"Hey," he wheezed.  
Tears began to stream from Alice's eyes.  
"Is it over?" he asked.  
Alice nodded, "Tristan saved us."  
Jackson turned his head to the side and saw Liam and Tristan at the end of the corridor. He smiled, "Good. I thought I should call him."  
Alice began to sob as she looked down at his wounds, "Help is almost here, you're going to be just fine!"  
"Promise me you'll take care of my son," he croaked.  
"Don't be stupid," she told him, "You're going to be just fine."  
He shook his head, "It's too late."  
"It's not too late!" she protested.  
Liam watched in horror. Tristan reached out and put his hand on the young man's shoulder. Jackson coughed and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Alice one last time, "Thank you."  
His eyes slowly began to close.  
"No!" Alice screeched, "No Jackson! No!"  
She cradled his head and began sobbing into his shoulder.

Chapter Thirty-One  
Tristan Miller sat on his wheelchair beside Officer Matt Harwood's hospital bed the next morning. The young man had been found just in time and rushed to hospital where his life had been saved. Tristan was informing Harwood of what had just occurred inside the University. Harwood gasped, "Dylan was the killer? I did not see that coming."  
"I don't think anyone did," Tristan replied.  
Harwood looked up, "Did anyone else survive?"  
The paraplegic nodded, "Liam and Leah just left. George Stokes and Grace Dollner are in the Intensive Care Unit. They've both lost a lot of blood, but they should pull through."  
Harwood ran his fingers through his hair, "What about Alice and Jackson?"  
"Alice will be fine," Tristan grunted.  
Harwood looked up in shock, "Jackson didn't make it?!"  
Tristan shook his head, "He sacrificed himself."  
"Oh God," Harwood muttered.  
Tristan turned his wheelchair and moved out of the room, leaving Harwood alone. He saw Alice standing outside the door, her face pale, her cheeks stained with tears.  
"Are you alright?" he asked.  
She nodded, but he knew she was lying.  
"I'm so sorry Alice," he muttered, "I know he didn't want this. But that was him, always running into dangerous situations."  
Alice forced a smile.  
"I have to go," he told her regretfully, "I'm flying to Dubai in the morning."  
She bent down and hugged him, "Thank you Tris."  
"Take care of yourself," he said.  
He turned and Alice watched as his wheelchair zoomed through the hospital. She opened the door to Harwood's room and stepped inside. He looked up at her, "Alice, I just heard about Jackson. I'm so sorry."  
She nodded as tears began to form again, "Thank you."  
He sighed and lay back in his pillows, "I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have stopped this all from happening."  
Alice moved forward and held his hand tightly, "There's nothing more you could have done. We all did our best."  
"Jesus," he groaned, "All this death, one guy. It's pretty hard to believe."  
"Yeah," Alice whispered.  
She turned away and looked down at the floor.  
"What is it?" Harwood asked.  
"Dylan said he was being paid to commit the murders," Alice muttered.  
"What?!" Harwood exclaimed.  
"He said something about being paid to replicate the Steyning Massacre," she repeated.  
"But who? George and Grace are damn near dead!"  
"And Liam's no killer," Alice told him.  
"But that only leaves-" Harwood began.  
The colour drained from Alice's face, "Oh my God!"  
She turned and sprinted out of Harwood's room and through the hospital and out of the front entrance into the snow and looked around desperately.  
"Tristan?!" she yelled.  
There was no answer and she could not see him anywhere. She sprinted away from the hospital, dashing through the deep snow.

Chapter Thirty-Two  
Liam and Leah marched toward her dorm building a few minutes later. Liam grasped the handle of the front door.  
"Aren't you going to have a cigarette?" Leah asked.  
He pulled his tobacco from his pocket and gazed down at it. He shook his head and threw the pouch down into the snow, "I could have died last night. After surviving that I'm not going to do something that's slowly killing me."  
Leah smiled as he put his arm around her. The two of them entered her hall building and slowly climbed the steps to her front door. She pushed it open and they stepped inside. Liam collapsed backward onto the bed and slowly rubbed his eyes.  
"Thank God this is over," Leah smiled.  
"Me too," Liam groaned.  
Leah opened one of her drawers and pulled out a bottle of Scotch whisky. She gestured to him, "Want a drink?"  
He slowly nodded. She turned away from him, pouring two glasses of the amber liquid. She turned and passed one to Liam. He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it. He smacked his lips as he felt the whisky burning his throat.  
"So do you think Dylan was working alone?" she asked.  
"Yeah," he replied, "Why wouldn't I?"  
"Because when that Kelsey woman was killed he was with Grace and the others," Leah told him, "He must have had someone helping him."  
"But who?" Liam asked.  
He looked down at the floor and thought to himself. He tried to piece together who could possibly be the second killer. Everyone else was dead except for George and Grace, but they were in a critical condition in the hospital. Who else could be the killer? Suddenly a horrible thought crossed his mind. He slowly looked up at Leah. She was smiling menacingly, "How's the drink?"  
He felt a sudden tingling sensation in his arms. He looked down at his cup before looking at Leah's desk. Next to the bottle of whisky was a small glass bottle of a clear liquid. The glass slipped out of his hands and shattered on the floor. He had lost feeling in them. He leapt to his feet and dashed for the door, but his legs no longer worked and he fell face first to the floor. Leah chuckled to herself and picked up the bottle.  
"It's called Hypotoline Bathantium," she explained, "It's a drug that causes paralysis. It doesn't last long, but it's powerful, very powerful. It'll give us enough time to have a little fun."  
Liam tried to crawl toward the door, but he could not move. Leah placed the bottle down on her bedside table and knelt beside Liam, rolling him onto his back. She smiled down at his terrified eyes.  
"I'm sorry," she said, "You must have a lot of questions."  
"W-w-why?2 Liam croaked.  
"Don't worry," she told him soothingly, "I'll explain everything."  
"You paid Dylan?" Liam wheezed before his vocal chords stopped working.  
She laughed, "You think I'm the mastermind?! That's sweet. No my friend, I got paid too. I had to have someone to blame the killings on. That was Dylan. No one suspects me."  
She opened a drawer on her bedside table and pulled out a Buck knife and played with it in her fingers.  
"Do you know what my plan was?"  
She looked down at him, but knew he could not answer.  
"I focused on you," she laughed, "It was all about you. I wanted to kill everyone around you and make you suffer before I killed you. I was planning it since the day I met you Liam."  
A single tear rolled form the corner of Liam's eye as he realised Leah's betrayal.  
"I'm sorry Liam," she lied, "Did you actually think I like you?"  
She laughed.  
"You're as stupid as Dylan was!"  
Liam looked up at her, hatred in his eyes.  
"This is it," she told him, "After months and months of hard work, this is the end."  
She grabbed his t-shirt and tore it open. She pressed the blade to his bare chest and grinned as she rubbed it across his skin.  
"Goodbye Liam," she growled.  
She held the blade in the air, ready to strike it down in the middle of his chest. Suddenly the door burst open behind her and Alice burst into the room. Alice's eyes widened in shock at the scene in front of her. Leah cried out in fury and leapt forward, tackling Alice to the floor. She held the knife aloft.  
"I'VE BEEN PLANNING THIS FOR SO LONG!" she screamed, "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RUIN THIS FOR ME NOW!"  
She stabbed the knife down, but Alice rolled out of its path just in time. Alice lashed out with her foot, kicking Leah in the chest. The second killer was thrown back against the wall. Leah lashed out with the blade in anger. It slashed across Alice's arm. She cried out in pain as her flesh squirted out blood. Leah grabbed Alice and threw her down the corridor toward the staircase. Alice could not pull herself to her feet quick enough before Leah was on her. Alice tried to fight her off, but the crazed woman was too energetic and thrust the knife up into Alice's stomach. Alice gasped in pain as she felt the blade miss her Kevlar vest and slice through her flesh.  
"I bet you're used to this now," Leah snarled, "I hope it hurts bitch."  
She twisted the blade and pulled it out. Alice staggered backward and pressed her hands to her wound before looking at her leaking blood. She peered up at Leah who had an expression of victory scribbled across her face. Alice gathered the last of her strength and ran at Leah, her fists held high ready to attack the killer. Leah simply ducked below her flying fists and stabbed her in the stomach once again. Alice's face screwed up in pain. Leah grinned and kicked Alice in the chest. She was thrown backward and tumbled down the staircase. Leah watched as she rolled down the stairs before coming to a halt at the bottom, blood gushing from her body. Leah turned, ready to finish off Liam, but gasped as she saw him standing right in front of her.  
"It really doesn't last very long," he growled.  
He grabbed Leah by the throat and forced the bottle of Hypotoline Bathantium into her open mouth before punching the underside of her jaw. The bottle smashed and the liquid instantly dissolved onto her tongue. Leah stared at him in shock. She could already feel her body going numb. She stumbled backward and fell down the stairs, smashing into each step before landing next to Alice with a thud. Liam crept down the stairs and looked down at the paralysed Leah. Her eyes were wide and staring at him, begging for mercy. He knelt beside her and picked up her knife.  
"The old Liam would have let you live," he muttered, "But he's not fucking here anymore."  
She looked at him in terror as he raised the blade into the air. He thrust it down into her chest. It sliced through her flesh, slamming into her ribcage, cracking it, but she could not scream in pain. She could not even put up a fight. Liam twisted the blade and smiled. He was causing her as much pain as she had caused him.  
"I hope it hurts," he snarled.  
He got to his feet and pressed his foot on the hilt of the blade. He watched as tears poured out of her eyes as pain coursed through her. She probably did not know what this kind of pain was, but she was happy causing it to others. Liam took one last look at Leah before pressing down with all his weight on the blade. There was a sickening crack as the blade broke through her ribs and pierced her heart. Blood gushed from Leah's mouth as her body began twitching. A few seconds passed before Leah Scott was still, her cold eyes staring blankly upwards. Liam ran his fingers through his hair and knelt beside Alice and rolled her over.  
"Alice?" he whispered.  
She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him.  
"Are you alright?" he asked.  
She nodded, "I'm going to see all my friends again."  
Liam shook his head, "Don't leave me!"  
"It's over," she told him, "You did it."  
"Alice no!" Liam pleaded.  
Tears began forming in his eyes. Alice took one last breath as her eyes slowly closed. She let out a sigh and was still. Liam let out a whimper and looked down at her body. Alice Lidbetter was dead.

Epilogue  
Six weeks had passed since the Stoke Massacre came to a brutal conclusion. The sky was cloudy and grey over the town of Steyning and rain plummeted down to Earth as if the planet was mourning. A black Audi pulled up outside an ancient flint built church on the outskirts of the town. The engine was switched off and slowly four people climbed out from the vehicle. Liam Cook, Matt Harwood, Grace Dollner and George Stokes were all dressed in black and looked solemn. They slowly made their way into the church through the heavy oak door. The church was barely occupied with only about half a dozen people in attendance. Three coffins sat at the front of the church covered in beautiful flowers as an organ was played. The three coffins had photos leant against them, photos of Kelsey Welch, Jackson Jones and Alice Lidbetter. The four of them sat at the back of the church on a cold wooden pew.  
"There's hardly anyone here," George muttered.  
Harwood quickly hushed him as he saw Liam hang his head in sorrow. Grace slowly put her arm around him. Harwood looked at the other attendees. He saw Tristan sitting in his wheelchair at the front of the church looking at the audience, ready to give a speech. In the front row he saw Jackson's ex-wife Megan Lodge sobbing into a handkerchief, her arm wrapped around her son. The other three people he did not recognise. He felt a sudden rush of empathy for Jackson, Alice and Kelsey. All they had was each other. The three of them were alone in the world. Without each other they were nothing. In a way Harwood was glad they all perished together, or else they would have been left alone. Tears leaked out of the corner of Liam's eyes. He tried to wipe them away, but couldn't. if it hadn't been for the three of them, he and his friends would have died. They nobly sacrificed their own lives for his. He sniffed and looked up, seeing Tristan clearing his throat on the altar.  
"Loyalty, bravery and love," he croaked, "Are just a few of the traits that these three wonderful people showed during their lifetime."  
Harwood saw Megan hold her head in her hands, unable to stop the stream of tears.  
"Their lives, like so many were dominated by death," Tristan announced, "They were unable to escape their fears and ultimately they were cruelly taken from us before their time. Alice, Jackson and Kelsey had already lost so many of their friends and family. They became our family. And I can speak for all of us to say that they will be missed. Rest in Peace."  
He slowly moved away and there was a murmur of a clap, but it quickly stopped, the sadness of the occasion echoing around the room.

A few minutes later, Liam stood outside the church beneath a shelter, a rolled cigarette in his hands. He was leaning against the wall, staring into the rain with blank, emotionless eyes. The heavy oak door was pushed open again and Megan Lodge stepped outside, her eyes red from crying. Liam looked up at her and recognised her. He quickly looked away.  
"You're Liam aren't you?" she asked.  
He slowly nodded, "I'm sorry about Jackson."  
She slowly nodded, "He died to save you and your friends."  
She forced a smile, "That was so him. He was always running off like that."  
Liam looked at the floor, trying not to get emotional.  
"He would do it again," she told him.  
The door opened again and Megan's son slowly walked out into the rain with an umbrella. His mother forced a smile and turned to Liam again, "This is Daniel."  
Liam looked at the child, seeing his father's face in him. He smiled at the boy, "Nice to meet you Daniel. You look just like your dad."  
Megan put her arm around her son, "Come on, lets go."  
She nodded at Liam before turning and walking away across the car park. Liam threw his cigarette to the ground and ran his fingers through his hair. If it wasn't for what Leah and Dylan did, that child would still have a father. The door opened for a third time and Harwood, Grace and George stepped out.  
"Are you alright?" Grace asked.  
He slowly nodded. He knew he was lying. Inside he felt terrible. He wished Jackson and his friends had never come up to Stoke. He sighed. Slowly the rain stopped and the air was calm. The clouds parted and rays of sunshine cascaded down onto them. Harwood turned to him, "Come on, let's go."  
The four of them climbed into Harwood's car and he sped out of the church grounds. Liam rested his head against the window and closed his eyes as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He felt as if somewhere Jackson was telling him it would all be alright. The killings were over. He knew what Jackson would say. He would tell him to put It behind him and move on with his life. Liam slowly opened his eyes and looked at the scenery that they passed. He knew he should move on, but it would be difficult. The most difficult thing he would ever have to do. He took a deep breath and looked at Harwood as he drove, then he looked back at Grace and George in the backseats. They slowly smiled at him. In the church he could see how lonely Jackson, Alice and Kelsey were. They pushed people away and refused to move on with heir lives, but that was not what he was going to do. He sat back in his seat and stared out of the windscreen. He had friends. It was time. Time to move on. Time for the rest of his life to begin. Harwood sped through Steyning onto the motorway. They had a long drive back to Stoke. Liam remembered when he and Jackson were in Stoke and the author had made him go for lunch. He was hungry, but didn't want to eat, the exact same feeling that the four of them were feeling at that moment. He looked across at his friends.  
"Let's stop for lunch," he muttered.  
In that instant, he knew everything was going to be okay. He would not become lonely as his peers had. He had friends and he was going to hold them as close as he could.

Tristan Miller sat in his wheelchair in the graveyard outside the church in Steyning. He was staring blankly at three headstones beside three freshly covered graves. The graves of Jackson, Alice and Kelsey stared at him as cold as stone. Tristan slowly wiped a tear from his eye. He blamed himself for the deaths. If he had only got to Stoke sooner then he would have been able to save Jackson and if he hadn't been in such a rush to leave, he would have saved Alice too. His two only friends in the world were dead and it was all because of his paranoia. His constant fear of the killer had cost him his best friends. He clenched his fists. He would never let the same happen again. Liam, Harwood, Grace and George were alive and he would make sure they stayed that way.  
"Don't worry guys," he whispered, "I'll protect them."  
He slowly turned his wheelchair and glided away across the grass as the sun poured down onto him.


End file.
